God, he didn’t even need to touch me.

God, I’d never gone this slow. Never been this turned on, not with virtually nothing happening.

I’d never wanted something so badly.

No, someone.

“Merry,” I whispered, and even I could hear the need dripping from his name.

His eyes cut back to mine and I couldn’t beat back my gasp at the hungry blaze I saw burning deep before his fingers dug into my flesh, lifting.

I hopped up as he brought me to him, shifting. I curled my legs around his hips and he put a knee in the bed, his mouth coming to mine.

My back met bed as his mouth opened over mine and his tongue slid inside.

From then, it didn’t go any less slow. Merry guiding, me following his lead, we touched. We kissed. We tasted. We trailed. I got his shirt off him. He separated long enough to rid himself of his shoes and socks. He gently dragged my panties down my legs. I went after his belt and held his gaze as he lay on his back in the bed and bucked his hips while I pulled his trousers and boxers down his.

Naked, it didn’t go any faster. It wasn’t about experience. Feeding the need. Taking what you wanted. Getting into your head and getting lost in the feeling.

It also wasn’t exploring.

It was memorizing.

Basking.

Worshiping.

I was so into him, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What a touch would do. The trail of my tongue. The nip of my teeth. The stroke of my hand.

I was dragging my lips along the crisp hair over the hard muscle of his stomach with a destination in mind when he pulled me up and showed me he was where I was.

That being, he was so into me, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What his touch did to me. The trail of his tongue. The nip of his teeth. The stroke of his hand.

It might have been fifteen minutes; it might have been three hours. All I knew was by the time he was finally ready to give me what I needed, I was more ready to get it than I’d ever been in my life.

And even that he gave me in a way only Merry could give me.

He righted us in his bed, my head to his pillows, strangely proper, powerfully proper, like this time, our first time as an us, taking a shot at what we could be, he was going to do it right.

He reached toward the nightstand, his eyes never leaving mine.

I curled my legs around his thighs, careful of the shoes I was still wearing, not wanting to spike him with a heel, my arms gliding around his back, my gaze locked to his.

He kept it that way as his lips fell to mine and he murmured, “Take care of this for me, baby.”

He found my hand and pressed the condom in it.