Leah
His mouth was gentle, hesitant, his fingers tracing instead of gripping, careful instead of demanding.
It frustrated me because all I could think of was a different pair of hands that were rough and possessive. A man who used to kiss me like he wanted to suck the damn air right out of my lungs, devour me, pull me into him until I was a part of him.
I hated that I was comparing them. Hated that he'd been right that no man would ever touch me the way he did. What I hated most was the ugly truth rising in my chest. He had made me crave the roughness, the loss of control, and everything he taught my body to want.
And the f*****g alcohol wasn't helping!
My thighs hit the edge of his bed, and I sank down with him.
"If you want to stop..." Edward whispered against my lips.
I should
