“Shut up.” I didn’t turn toward him, even though I knew he was next to my bed.

“Tell me about your dreams.”

I sighed. “Sorry. They’re mine. Get your own.”

The other side of my bed dipped. I turned my head toward Fisher next to me on his back, hands folded on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

“Take your shirt and pants off,” he said.

“What?”

He closed his eyes. “Just … take them off. Nothing more, just your shirt and pants.”

I didn’t move.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

He grinned a tiny grin, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Well, try … just this once.”

Sitting up slowly, I removed my shirt, eyeing him to see if he was peeking.

He wasn’t.

I had to stand to shimmy out of my jeans, leaving them on the floor next to my shirt—leaving me in a white bra and panties.

Fisher’s eyes fluttered open, and I held my breath, holding back the urge to cover myself. “You’re truly beautiful.”

My skin turned pink all over. “Thank you,” I whispered, fighting the insecurity to ask him if he thought I was as beautiful as Teagan or the million other women he’d been with while I was just a young girl.

“Come here.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, I crawled onto the bed close to him.

“Straddle my legs.”

Biting my quivering lower lip, I straddled his jean-clad legs. The level of intimacy made it nearly impossible to breathe.

“Higher.”

I scooted higher.

He sat up, shrugging off his shirt, and I jumped as his hands found my hips, his fingers grazing my butt. Our noses nearly touched.

“I’m going to kiss you. And touch you.” His voice was just a whisper, a warm breath over my lips. “And you’re going to do whatever you need to do to feel … good. And if you get scared, I want you to close your eyes and know that I’ve got you. You’re not too young or too anything. You are you. And I just think that you’re … beautiful.”

“Fisher …” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

We kissed, unhurried, almost lazily.

My hands navigated his chest and back, every muscle, every bend in the terrain of his body. Fisher feathered his calloused hands over my bare skin, sending goose bumps spreading across it.

Our kiss deepened, a soft moan breaking the silence. It took me a few seconds to realize it was me, not him. Fisher’s fingers slid up my inner thighs. I stiffened, eyes wide. He blinked a few times and slowly kissed me again. When I closed my eyes, I let go … finding trust in the man who “had me.” His fingers teased the leg of my panties. My right hand found his hair as my left hand clawed his back.