Inspire (The Muse #1)(57)
Author: Cora Carmack

She leans forward, planning a kiss low on my stomach before continuing up. “I meant from our first night together. You took care of me, and I didn’t return the favor.”

She places another kiss against the left side of my ribs, and I frown. “That’s not how this works, Kalli. You didn’t owe me anything.”

Her lips land on my chest, just above where my heart is still thundering, trying to play catch up. She lowers her body against mine. Her hips are cradled in the V of my thighs, her chest rests just below mine. She props her chin up on my chest and smiles at me.

“I know. But you did something wonderful for me that night. Beyond the physical. You made me feel important and special and wanted not for what I could give you, but just for being me. You reminded me of things that I’d forgotten a long time ago. And you held me together when I felt sure that my only option was to fall apart. You changed everything that night. More than you will ever know. And I wanted to give you a little taste of what that felt like for me. To have someone solely concentrated on you and giving you what you need.”

It’s the most insight she’s ever given me into her emotions, and that somehow means even more than hearing her say she loves me. My throat feels tight when I answer. Maybe from fighting the pleasure she just gave me. Or from hearing her words. Either way, my voice is raspy when I say, “You. If you want to give me what I need, the answer will always be you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Kalli

I know I should still be monitoring my energy levels and being cautious about how much we touch. It’s the only way I can be certain that he’s safe as we have sex.

Fact: Being with him causes the energy to build at an unnatural speed.

Fact: Prolonged touch amplifies that already advanced speed.

Fact: I want him to touch me anyway.

His eyes are hooded as he looks at me, almost lazy after the force of his orgasm. And it does something to my soul to hear him say he needs me. Makes it a little lighter, closer to the surface, as if my soul wants to get as near to his as possible.

So, I give my being and mind and heart what they want and press my body into his. I lay my head over his heart so I can hear the way it beats underneath his skin. Steady. Strong. I inch my fingers up his side, over his chest, and around his neck, hooking them together in a gesture of possession.

I want him to touch me despite the consequences because I want to feel like I’m his as much as he is mine.

And there’s not an inch of me that doesn’t believe he is that.

His chest rumbles beneath me when he asks, “Can I touch you now?”

I smile and nod against him. I’ll probably need to instigate the no touching rule again when we’re actually joined, just to make certain that the greater intimacy doesn’t cause an even more drastic reaction in me. But for now? Feeling his relaxed body underneath mine? There’s nothing I want more than his arms around me.

Half a second later, I get exactly that. One arm bands around my ribs, curling until his fingertips brush the side of my breast. The other drapes low across my waist, ending with a tight grip on my hip. I sigh in contentment, feeling like his arms are a heated brand on my skin.

His.

We lay like that for a while, and I enjoy the way my body moves with his every breath. Up and down. Up and down. I snuggle up his body a little more so I can press my face into the warm hollow of his neck instead.

He makes another rumbling noise beneath me, and my grin spreads wide.

“You’re not falling asleep on me again are you?”

I laugh. “No.” Then I open my mouth against his neck to prove it. The steady rhythm of his breathing falters a little.

“Good.” The hand on my hip loosens and his palm smoothes down, rising with the curve of my bottom. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” His hand squeezes once and then continues down, dipping lower to the heated juncture below. He grazes my inner thighs first, and I know without his groan that I’m damp there.

I’ve never in my life gotten that much pleasure out of going down on a guy. I’ve pretended I have, sure. That’s sort of part of the routine. But every time his body had reacted instinctively—tightening or thrusting or squirming—my own body had clenched in response. It was just another part of feeling like he belonged to me. His pleasure belonged to me, too.

His fingers continue upward until they hit sensitive, swollen flesh. And I’m more than damp there.

“Kalli,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on my forehead.

His touch is soft at first, exploring through my wetness. Then his arm stretches, reaching farther, touching the bundle of nerves at the top. I tighten my grip on his neck and tilt my hips into his. The movement takes me away from his hand though, so I press backward, rising ever so slightly on my knees.

He groans.

“Did I mention that the sight of you on all fours was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen? I think I’d like to see it from a different angle too though.”

I lift up enough to throw him a sly smile.

“It would be awfully hard for me to be in control from that position.”

He groans. Not from pleasure this time.

“Again?”

I nod. “The first time, yes.”

I can tell he’s not happy about it, but I can’t take any chances. The thought of being under him, surrounded and pressed into the mattress by his body … gods, it makes me so hot. But I think about all the skin that would be touching. More exposure. And he has a way of making me lose my head. I just imagine me getting so caught up in him that I don’t notice the rising tides of the inspiration. And then what? Risk hurting him? Or push him off and run away again, this time right in the middle of sex instead of the morning after?

No. Better to take it slow. To be sure. If it’s manageable, there will be time later for him to be in charge. Hell, if it’s safe, I’ll let Wilder Bell do whatever he wants to me. I turn my head, kissing the center of his chest before pushing myself up. With a little wiggling, I end up kneeling between his legs again. His hands fall beside him on the bed once I’m out of his reach, and I meet his wary eyes before dropping my gaze. He’s hard. Again. Or maybe still.

I rest a hand on his thigh and let it run up to his hip. I’m a touch unsure now that it’s about more than just pleasing him. I don’t want to just jump him. Well, I mean … I do want to just jump him. But I’m not sure if that’s what I should do. This is our first time. The only first time that has ever really mattered or ever will matter. I want it to be perfect. I don’t want him to remember it as that time I wouldn’t let him touch me, and it was crap because of it.