Page 72 of Too Sweet
“Please. Just close your eyes for a minute.”
I do, curious and unable to refuse. At this pace, she’ll have me wrapped around her finger by morning. I feel her fingertips on both sides of my jaw. She slides them lower to meet on my chin, then higher, over my lips and nose, brushing my eyelashes gently like she’s committing every inch of me to memory.
She moves her hands to caress the soft spot behind my ears, runs her fingers up the nape of my neck and into my hair, then cups my face, thumbs under my eyes, as she stamps a kiss on my forehead.
I’m gone. Swallowed by the intense feelings. Overpowered.
She won’t own me.
She already does when she kisses me slowly, slipping her tongue between my lips. I grip her neck, and my fingers disappear in her hair as I match the rhythm of her lips.
I’ve touched and kissed a lot of women; had sex with many, too. Wild, breathless sex, but nothing in all my twenty-nine years ever came close to the intimacy of this moment. It’s not what I imagined I wanted. Nothing like any of my deepest fantasies.
Mia’s more. So much more.
My whole life was a lie. An illusion crafted from a social definition of beauty and fulfillment—tall, confident, career-driven brunette. That’s what I thought I craved.
A petite, sweet, helpless little blonde is what makes me tick. She’s all I think about. I want her safe, happy, and mine.
I flip her back, laying her flat on the bed, never breaking the kiss. I don’t want more than this. Her lips, her touch, the cautious tenderness... it’s enough.
It’s fuckingeverything.
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” I whisper, my mouth grazing her cheek until I nibble her ear, my hand under her sky-blue nightdress setting another camp, caressing her hip. “I bet I won’t want to leave once I’m in there.”
Her cheeks heat again, but she fights embarrassment, toying with a thick tangle of hair at the back of my head. “I bet I won’t want you to leave. I waited a long time for you.”
So am I. She’s a blank canvas. The first time I claim her body will lay the grounds for our sex life. I want her to be comfortable in her own skin, focused on her pleasure, and courageous enough to ask for what she needs.
Happy, at ease, confident.
That’s the goal.
“I’ve wanted you since I met you,” she says quietly.
“You have me, baby. You had me before I saw your face.” I scuff my thumb across her lower lip. I don’t want to scare you, but I’m already fucking crazy about you.”
“I don’t want to scare you, but so am I.”
I peck her head, pull the comforter aside, and pat the mattress. “Hop in. It’s late.”
We get under the sheets, and Mia starts busying her hands by pinching the comforter, a nervous ritual.“Um... will it be a problem if I put a nightlamp on? I’m—” She trips over the words, inhaling deeply. “I don’t like darkness.”
It takes me two heartbeats to understand what she said. My only response is, “Why?”
“It won’t be bright, I promise. It’s not really a night lamp, it’s a projector, and I can dim—”
“You’re evading, Mia. If you don’t want to tell me, say so. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. Put the light on.”
She leans out, turns on the projector, then flips the overhead lights off. It feels like I’ve stepped out of the space station. The ceilings and walls are covered in constellations, stars, and planets.
“I was bullied in school,” she admits, curving into my side. “Kids used to lock me in the janitorial closet for hours after school, gagged and tied. It was pitch dark in there.”
“Bullied? Why were you bullied?”
“Why is anyone bullied?” She kisses the underside of my chin. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have the first night I get to fall asleep next to you. Let’s save it for a rainy day, okay?”
I let out all air from my lungs. “Yeah, okay, but we’re not spending that rainy day soaking wet on the beach.”
