I backed away slowly and looked down. I quirked my head to the side. No blood or anything dramatic. I looked back up to her, and she was peering down, too, no doubt looking for the same thing I was.
She smiled and lay back. “Good. I read it’s different for everyone.”
I moved back on top of her and kissed her before resting my forehead on hers. “How was it for you?”
She looked up, pretending to give it some deep thought. “I would say it was . . . hmm . . . Let me think—”
I bit her bottom lip and pulled it into my mouth.
“Mmm.” She ran her hands through my hair. “It was better than I ever imagined.”
Pride roared to life inside my chest. I had given her a great first time. I wanted to get up and strut around the apartment complex. Fuck that, the block.
She ran her hand down to my cheek and cupped it. I leaned into her light touch.
“So, what happens now?” she asked.
“Now.” I dropped another kiss on her lips before getting to my feet. “I bring you some tissues, we clean up, then you come over to my place for a late night snack.”
I went to her bathroom and smiled at all the girly items on the counter – face creams, lotions, and hair products. Then I took her the tissue and helped her clean up.
Pulling on my shorts, I looked at her over my shoulder. “Wear PJs. You’re spending the night.”
Her eyebrows went up as I walked out. She shouldn’t have been surprised. When I’d said she was mine, I’d meant it. I knew from the moment I’d first seen her that she was something special, something that I had to have. The more I learned about her, the more I knew it was true. Love at first sight. I didn’t think it was remotely possible until the day I’d seen her, the day I’d finally laid eyes on the one made for me. And then I was a believer.
I went to my apartment kitchen and, after turning the sound system on low, started making some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, midnight snack of champions. I glanced over to the clock. It was only five more minutes until midnight. Until Valentine’s day. I smiled. I’d never had a “Valentine” before. Never kept a girl around long enough to indulge in the holiday with her. But with Jess? I was going to go all out on romance. I wish I’d planned it better, but I wouldn’t change the way it went down for a second.
When I was finishing up with the last one, I heard my door open.
“Michael?” Her voice, but now shot through with shyness.
Her hesitant movements had me smirking and my cock hardening. I would bring the wildcat back out, and sooner rather than later. “Come in and lock it behind you.”
“Okay.” The lock clicked over and she padded into my galley kitchen.
I almost dropped the butter knife. She wore a tank top, no bra, and her nipples were hard enough to cut glass. On the bottom, a set of shorts with lace around the edges. It was a matching set, and I wanted it matching in a torn heap on the floor.
She fidgeted under my stare and crossed her arms over her chest.
“No.” I was on her in the blink of an eye, one hand in her hair and the other pushing her arms down. “I want to see you.”
She gasped and stared up at me, her guileless eyes bright. Slowly, she let her arms fall.
I backed away and took my time looking her over. She was a curvy hourglass. Her long, dark hair draped over her shoulder and her mouth was the perfect pout. There must have been countless men who’d tried for her. I stood a little straighter knowing she’d saved herself and given it all to me.
“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” I wanted to get my camera out right then and there. But it could wait. I had to taste her again first.
She blushed and dropped her gaze. “No.”
I put my index finger under her chin and lifted her eyes back to mine. “I have never seen anything more beautiful.”
“But you photograph models all day . . . Or all night, I guess.”
“Those girls don’t hold a candle. And they certainly don’t hold my interest.” I used to date models. They were easy and available. Not anymore.
I leaned in and brushed my lips across hers. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back for me. I ran my hand down her throat, to her collar bone, and then lower to her breast. It was somewhat more than a handful, firm and yet still soft. Perfect.
Her stomach growled, and she opened her eyes. “Sorry. I skipped dinner.”
I didn’t want to let her go, but more important than my need to claim her was my need to take care of her.
“You came to the right place. Have a seat.”
“Those look good.” She gestured to the sandwiches with a graceful movement. “I’m starving.”