Page 60 of Tangled Up In You

She’d never been so close to anyone before for more than the duration of a brief hug, and her mind had gone completely blank. She nodded.

“Words, Sunshine. Lesson one: When you’re with a guy, you need to tell him that what he’s doing is okay. If it’s not, he should stop.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Good.” He swallowed, finding the fingers of one of her hands on his shoulder and guiding them higher. “Maybe you want to cup his face, like this.” He brought her trembling hand to his jaw. Her eyes followed the movement, riveted, as he set her fingers on his skin, molding them with his own hand. Without thinking, she brushed a thumb over his cheek. His skin glowed under the dim lights, his eyes darting to hers.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No. It’s good. Do what feels natural.”

With that permission, she moved an inch lower, drawing the pad of her thumb across the swell of his bottom lip. It was so much softer than she’d imagined, so smooth and full. He pressed a kiss there and she looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Good,” he said, eyes dark. Her other hand slipped absently down to his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips. “Still okay?” he asked.

He had one hand on her lower back, the other wrapped around the top of her thigh. His body was strong and steady beneath hers. Ren swallowed, starting to answer only with a nod, and then remembered: “Yes.”

“How does it feel so far?”

“Really nice.”

He smiled at this. “Good.” He began to close the distance between them, so close that he was out of focus, and she had to shut her eyes. She could feel his breath on her parted lips, the way his fingers had slid higher and curled around the back strap of her bathing suit.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, just an inch away. “And remember,” he said, so close, so quiet. His nose brushed against hers, and his other thumb moved in soft circles near the crease of her thigh.

“Remember?” she repeated mindlessly, breaths short and stuttering.

“When you do this,” he said, and his lips just barely brushed over hers, “you can stop whenever you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

She sucked in a breath at the first full press of his mouth; the sensation inside her felt like falling. She’d never ridden a roller coaster before, but she imagined it was something like this, right at the very top, a free fall into joyful abandon. Her stomach had to be somewhere near her throat; she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Fitz pulled away like he wanted to check in, but Ren slid her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him close again. The heat pressing up from beneath her skin felt almost unbearable, and when he carefully swiped his tongue over hers, she felt a different kind of hunger, a new kind of need. She’d never experienced this sweet tension spiraling through her body, heavy and warm.

He moved a hand to cup her face and tilted her head to fit him better, the hand on her back moving to her hip to pull her closer. She was so conscious of every tiny movement and point of pressure—his thighs beneath her, the power of his arms, the gentle scratch of his stubble against her lips and cheeks. She understood now on a deeper, savage level why people did this, why people fought for it, lost themselves in search of it.

Languid minutes passed as he showed her so many different kisses—deep ones and tiny, soft ones; teeth-dragging ones and lip-sucking ones. Steam swirled around them, decadent fingertips brushing their skin, leaving them dewy with sweat. She felt his kisses in every nerve ending in her body, felt the growing points of contact between them, how she moved closer and closer until they were touching from chest to hips, moving, rocking.

She understood how they’d fit together.

Slowly, with his breaths gusting against her lips, Fitz pulled away, stilling her with a thumb set gently on her chin. This close, she could see that his cheeks were flushed, his lips wet, so pretty and pink. His chest rose and fell like he’d just done laps around the pool.

“We should stop,” he said, voice tight.

“Did I do okay?”

He blinked, and met her eyes, giving a quiet laugh. “Yeah. You did great.”

Seconds ticked by before he cleared his throat, and the glassiness in his eyes slowly sobered. She grew conscious of their position, the feel of that part of him, the reality of what they’d done, and shifted her hips back, half floating, half perched on his knees.

“See?” He reached up, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Now you can’t say you’ve never been kissed.”

“You’re right.” Her lips still tingled, and she bit the lower one, dragging it through her teeth. He watched. “Thank you, Fitz.”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the side of the hot tub, his smile slowly fading. Worry tightened his brow, but he curved a hand around her side and murmured quietly, “Trust me. It was my pleasure.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

FITZ