Page 322 of Bitter’s Sweet

Her mouth curves.

“Maybe later.”

My entire body tightens.

“Mean.”

“You like me mean.”

“I love you mean.”

The words leave without strategy this time.

Sweet goes quiet for half a heartbeat.

Then she smiles.

“I love you stupid.”

“Accurate.”

I kiss her again.

The rest of our clothes disappear slowly, one piece at a time, with Sweet laughing once when my shoulder complains and immediately threatening to stop until I convince her bruised does not mean dead.

I touch her only where she brings me, slowing whenever her body tightens until she tells me what she wants instead of making me guess and calling the guess protection.

When my fingers slide between her thighs, she catches her breath and closes her eyes.

I stop.

Her eyes open immediately.

“Do not.”

“Do not what?”

“Stop because I breathed.”

“That was a hell of a breath.”

“Bitter.”

“What do you want?”

Her gaze holds mine.

“You.”

That word could ruin me if I let it.

I kiss her instead.

Sweet guides my hand back where she wants it, hips lifting into my touch. I remember what makes her thighs tense, what makes her breath go shallow, what makes her fingers bite into my shoulder.

The difference is that this time remembering is not enough.

I listen too.