Page 92 of You'll Be the Death of Me

“Hi. I hope you don’t mind if I remove these.” He slowly slid his palms up her thighs and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear.

She shook her head, unable to form words.

He slid them down just as slowly until he removed them from her feet. Then he reached for her left leg and traced his nose from her knee to her hip. He kissed a tender trail from one hip bone to the other, lining her belly with a flush of pink. Her head fellback against the pillows, and a moan escaped her mouth. He ran his nose down the inside of her other thigh and kissed her knee. She’d closed her eyes to fully indulge in the sensation but sharply snapped them open when his hands suddenly gripped her hips and yanked her down the bed.

“Oh!” she gasped when she looked down to see him positioned between her thighs with her legs over each of his shoulders.

He shot her a grin and then got to work kissing and nipping at her. He worked his lips up her legs and kissed and sucked everywhere except where she wanted him to touch her most.

And that was somehow the best part.

His lips would come so close, and then move away. His fingers would tease, his thumbs circle. The need to feel him inside her grew hotter and sharper until she almost couldn’t stand it.

Whatever competency the man lacked at his job he made up for it in bed. He touched her body like a classically trained musician would an instrument: with precision, expertise, and a raw talent that could not be taught. No one had ever drawn the symphony of aching, low moans, the gasps, the breathless notes too high to hear from her. She found it all wonderfully surprising on so many levels.

Perhaps the most surprising was the absolute balance she felt in her every cell. As if a cosmic scale had tipped and locked into place where everything on one side was in perfect harmony with everything on the other. She’d never felt anything like it.

“Cole,” she panted at the ceiling. “Why does this feel so...right?” She couldn’t come up with another word to describe it.

“I don’t know, but I feel it too,” he said, and then, finally, dragged his tongue along her most sensitive skin.

“Oh,fuck me,” she blurted, and reared against him.

He licked her again and then rose up to grab her wrists. With a satisfied smile, he lifted her arms up over her head into the pile of pillows and held them there. “With your permission, gladly,” he said in a low growl that curled her toes. Where the polite, argyle-wearing, rule book–following transition specialist had gone, Dell didn’t know. But whatever man had been unleashed in his place, she desperately wanted to get to know better. He pinned her arms and stretched out over her, slowly rubbing his erection against the slick skin between her legs in a back-and-forth motion that had her ready to combust.

“Yes.” She desperately nodded. “Yes, yes, please.”

He gathered her wrists into one hand and used his other to reach down between her spread legs to guide himself in. Dell gasped and welcomed the delicious pressure. He moved slowly, in and out, inch by inch, until her body had fully welcomed his and they were fused together.

He let go of her wrists and rested his forearms on the pillows. He pressed his forehead into hers. The tender moment sent Dell’s dead heart fluttering. “You’re right: This does feel right,” he said.

“So right,” she confirmed, breathless. It was the fullest she’d ever felt—physically and emotionally. And knowing he was causing both sensations had her feverish with want for more.

His lips curved up into a pleased grin. And then he kissed her mouth. Gently. It was at odds with the strength of his body, the sheer mass of him on top of and inside her, which was what made it land like both a feather and an atomic bomb. He fit into her like a key into a lock, their bodies in perfect unison. Like they were made for each other.

Dell curled her fingers into his hair and wrapped her legsaround his. They moved together, slowly at first, until they found a rhythm that had Dell gasping for air she didn’t even need and an explosive pressure building at the center of her. When she came with a cry, clawing at Cole’s back and losing all sense except for the white-hot thrum, the bedside lamp burst to life so brightly, the bulb burned out with a snap.

Cole turned his head to look. Dell was still too high to say anything coherent.

“Who knew every time a light bursts, it’s a ghost having an orgasm,” she muttered.

Cole laughed a hot breath into her neck. “I somehow suspect that skill is unique to you.” He kissed her until she tingled, all the while moving his hips in skilled rolls, which already had an aftershock tugging deep in her belly.

“If we don’t need to sleep, and don’t get tired,” Dell said, gasping again, “how long can we do this?”

“All night,” Cole answered in the moment before he stilled against her. The pause was brief, and in it, Dell heard him whisperfuckin a way that sounded more like an exaltation than a swear. Despite his shift in demeanor, the tiny little curse felt like a scandalous crack in his personality. It had Dell clinging to him at the thought she’d done it to him, while he pumped his hips.

No light bulbs burst when he came, but the ragged moan that tore from his mouth undid Dell all over again. She writhed underneath him, lost once more to the driving pulse between her legs. The lamp on the other side of the bed lit up and popped out. She was too enthralled to be embarrassed.

“Remind me to have Jason ship your parents some new light bulbs,” she panted when they pulled apart.

“Probably best to let them figure out on their own they need replacing rather than try to explain anything to them,” Cole said, also panting.

“It can be an anonymous donation, then. He’ll leave them on the porch with no note.”

“That might be even weirder.”

“I’m just trying to be nice,” Dell said, and rolled over to prop herself on his chest. She smoothed her palm over the pattern of his muscles.