Sawyer breaks off with a soft laugh. He pushes me onto my back once more and stays in place.
"I want to experience every part of you," he whispers and kisses me. His hand glides down my lower belly to the sensitive hollow of my body.
"Sawyer!" I complain.
My knees part automatically to give him better access to the part of me that's almost painful with need. His fingers slide into me, and I groan.
"So wet. And here I wasn't sure if you really liked me," he teases.
"I do!" I snap breathlessly. "I want to be yours. I've never wanted that with anyone else. It scares me, but I want you to have all of me, down to my scars."
His fingers still, and his eyes travel from my body to my face.
"That's how I feel. Right or wrong," I add.
I'm expecting a verbal response. Instead, he kisses me and presses me back, his body lowering onto mine. The heat of his skin against mine and the hunger in his kiss scatter my thoughts, send me into sensory overload, while his arousal tickles the opening of my core in a way that makes me claw at his back and try to wriggle into position.
Sawyer enters me slowly, inch by inch, and my body grows taut. At no time in my adult life have I ever felt the need to come from penetration, but with him, it's entirely different.
It's more than physical. I opened my heart and soul to one man, the best man I've ever known, one who makes me want to be the best person I can be, who challenges me mentally and stirs me physically.
It's knowing he's seen my scars, survived my pain and born my misguided anger - and still chosen to be with me.
It's admitting to myself that it's not only okay to lower my guard to someone else, it's worth risking everything I am to be loved in a way only someone like Sawyer can love me.
Whatever this is between us, it's too strong to walk away from, and I never want to make that mistake again.
I arch beneath him, overwhelmed physically and emotionally, unable to control the intense pleasure building in response to his rhythmic thrusting and the friction of our bodies, to the intimacy of being one with him, with Sawyer Mathis. My legs are wrapped around his hips, my arms hugging him as close as possible.
"Come for me, Katya," he whispers into my ear.
My world shatters, and I murmur his name as pleasure breaks over me, sweeping me even deeper into my senses, filling me with waves of ecstasy and his scent, skin, heat.