Page 230 of Playing With Fire

Then I sit up against the headboard and draw her gently between my knees. She brushes her fingers through my hair, her nails lightly scraping my scalp. It feels so fucking good.

For a while, we stay like that.

Kissing. I could kiss her for hours. Letting the rest of the world exist somewhere beyond the windows while I explore her delicate skin with my hands.

I’m trying to take my time, trying to hold back because I want this to be perfect for her.

At some point, she laughs against my mouth.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Becks.”

She shakes her head. “It's just... you're being very patient.”

I rest my hands at her waist. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She touches my cheek. “I like this version of you.”

I raise an eyebrow before I can stop myself. “Which version?”

“The one who isn't trying to talk himself out of wanting me.”

I pull her closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I kiss her once.

Then again.

“Think I like him, too.”

She smiles.

There's no music. No fireplace. Nothing but the distant sounds of Chicago and the quiet rustle of sheets as she moves closer.

I wrap an arm around her. She rests her head against my chest. And for a few minutes, we don't say anything.

I feel nervous like it’s my first time all over again.

I know tomorrow is coming. I know Declan's name will still be on my phone.

I know there are conversations we're going to have to have, and decisions I can't keep putting off. But for once, I don't reach for a reason to ruin something good before it has a chance to become anything at all.

Delaney lifts her head. “Bishop?”

“Yeah, Becks?”

She brushes her mouth against mine. “I'm still here.”

I hold her gaze, take a deep breath, and make the play. I roll us so that I’m lying between her legs. “Yeah, baby,” I whisper. “You are.”