Page 61 of The Bound Blood
Her fingers slip into my hair. My hands anchor at her waist. The curve of her body molds to mine like she’s always meant to be pressed against me like this.
And I realize—I’ve never read about anything like this. Not in all the books. None of it could prepare me for how I feel at this moment.
Her mouth tastes like something I’ll never stop chasing now that I’ve had a taste.
I don’t even realize I’ve started walking her backward until the backs of her legs bump into the edge of the bench beneath the window. She breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, and I freeze, terrified I’ve misread something.
But she’s smiling.
Wicked again. Warm and sure.
“Sit,” she whispers as she moves me into the spot she was just in.
My knees bend before my brain catches up. She straddles me a second later, arms looping around my neck, and I nearly die on the spot.
Because this is real. She’s here.With me. Her weight in my lap. Her scent everywhere. The soft shift of her shirt brushing against mine. I think my heart might break out of my chest.
“Lindsay,” I breathe, voice cracking slightly.
She tilts her head. “Nolan?”
I try to say something. Anything. But my mouth has stopped working properly becauseher handsare moving now—skimming down my chest, undoing buttons, and I swear every nerve in my body fires like I’ve been struck by a live wire.
I swallow hard.
“This is… I mean, I want to—I really, really want to—but…”
She stills instantly, giving me that sharp-eyed look like she’s reading every thought I’m having.
“It’s okay,” she says, softer now. “You’re allowed to be nervous.”
I nod, then wince. “I’ve just… I haven’t—ever.”
Her brow lifts slightly. “At all? I thought you meant out in the open.”
I feel the heat rise so fast it’s probably visible. “Yeah. At all. I mean—Not like this. Not with someone who matters this much. Just…uh…on my own.”
I want to die admitting that out loud. Who is a literal virgin at twenty-one? No one that I know. Her expression softens, all teasing gone. Her hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks.
“You matter to me too,” she says. “And I’m not going to rush you.”
“I’m not opposed to rushing,” I say quickly. “I just—might be a little… fumbly.”
Her grin returns, and it doesthingsto me.
“You can fumble all you want,” she says, voice dropping as she kisses my jawline and then just below my ear. “I’ve got you.”
I think I actuallymelt.
She shifts again, slow and confident, and my hands come up instinctively to steady her. Her thighs frame my hips. Her fingers trace the edges of my jaw like I’m something precious—like I’mhers.
And gods, Iwantto be.
My shirt slips off somewhere between kisses, and when her hands slide over my skin, I can’t help the gasp that escapes me. It’s not even that it’s too much—it’s justeverything. Every inch of her touch is burning itself into memory.
She kisses me deeper. Longer. My hands tighten at her waist. I’m drowning in sensation—in her—and I don’t want to come up for air.
“Is this okay?” she whispers between kisses, her lips ghosting across my throat, her fingers teasing the edge of my waistband.
