I suck in air and I’m immersed in West’s heady scent. “What do I talk about?”

“You can admit I go too fast, but at the same time you don’t want to stop.” West slides his hand along the curve of my waist, then slips one fingertip past the fabric of my jeans near my hip. Electricity jolts my body and I move with the thrilling shock. While I love the sensation, it also terrifies me.

“Nope. Gotta say it, not think it.”

“I like kissing you.” More than like. I love it. I crave it. I dream of it at night and wake up frustrated when I find myself alone in a cold bed.

West sinks lower and skims his hand along my thigh. “Just the kissing? You’re not a fan of this?” And he mimics the delicious movement.

I melt into him. “I’m a fan.”

West leans down, his breath hot on my ear. “And this?”

Superb, divine goose bumps. “Superfan.”

“And the kisses along your neck?” he murmurs.

I wiggle against him, wishing he would. “Love those.”

His hands snake around me and his strong palms glide along my spine while he blows warm air along my neck. I turn my head, exposing more of the skin there, silently begging.

“What do you want? No more staying locked inside your head. You have to tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

West’s lips connect with my skin behind my ear and I go weak with the teasing pleasure.

“More?” he whispers.

I nod with the frequency of my rapid heartbeats, then remember he’ll wait until I say the words. “More.” He immediately rewards me by parting his lips and kissing the same spot again.

My breathing hitches when West flips us and lays me down on the bedspread. Air rushes out of the fluffy blanket and my hair spills all around. West hovers over me, our bodies not quite touching. His knee rests between my legs.

My hand shakes as I stroke the smooth skin of his face. West is beautiful with his blue eyes and golden-blond hair. My fingers explore down his shoulder, along his arm. He’s always been strong, but with the training his muscles have become powerful, refined. Greedy, I yearn to admire the results.

Bolder than I have ever been, I ignore the redness forming on my face and tug at the hem of his shirt—a nonverbal West happily agrees to. With his shirt up and over his head, I trail a path along the plane of his chest and stomach; tracing the well-defined lines.

West closes his eyes as if my touch affects and seduces him. My pulse thuds to the point my frame quakes. I know what I want and the courage to say it evades me until West brings my hand to his mouth. His lips press against my palm and I rush out the words, “I dream of you at night. Of this.”

“Me, too.” He releases my hand and I draw forward, holding my arms in the air. West grasps the hem of my shirt and he slowly edges the material up while leaving hot, lingering kisses along my stomach, between my br**sts and onto my neck. West’s body is blazing and what I love is the thump of his heart against my skin.

“I love you,” he says.

Nervous adrenaline creeps into my bloodstream. I love him. I do. I love his strength, his tenacity, his loyalty and even his impulsiveness. But I’m frightened how those three words said aloud will change everything.

With his body blanketing mine, our hearts in tune with each other, the emotion I’ve been fighting overpowers me and I’ve never liked the feeling of losing control. My lip trembles as a hot tear escapes and streams down my cheek.

West catches it with a kiss. “We’re strong together, Haley. Stronger than we are apart.”

“I don’t feel strong,” I whisper.

“Then I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders and I cling to him. “I love you.”

West captures my lips and the intensity of the embrace unravels all train of thought. Our hands are everywhere: touching, exploring. His on my body. Mine on his. A strap of my bra down, then another.

We roll and his hands are tight in my hair, our tongues slide urgently against the other, and, as I hook a leg around his, we roll again and my body arches with the way we fit.

Hands wander lower and with warmth spreading everywhere I whisper his name—one time, then another—and with a few more touches he whispers mine. West’s fingers pause on the button of my jeans and we both snap open our eyes.

Our breaths come out in gasps. “I want you to be my first. This means something—making love means something. It’s why I haven’t done it before. I’ve been waiting for you.”

I lick my lips and nod, wanting to know what it’s like to be with someone who loves me and I love in return. My lips brush against his and West slips the button through the hole and the unzipping of my jeans becomes the only noise in the room.

Silence as we stare at one another. My jeans are unzipped. We can go forward or we can go back, and even though I’m scared as hell, I don’t want to go back.

My fingers find his jeans and West’s grace eludes me. A metal button through an open space of material. It should be easy, simple, uncomplicated, but my fingers fumble. One time. A second time. With the third, I feel an indention of the button forming on the tip of my finger.

West lays his hands over mine and I close my eyes, wishing I’d die. He doesn’t push me away. Instead he guides my fingers in a fluid and effortless flick and his zipper crackles.

I swear to God my heart can’t beat any faster.

With my bra and jeans half off, I flounder with the blanket beneath me.