The Morning After

I looked up at Emerson, breathing hard, meeting his intense gaze as I ran my hands across his chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. He shivered at my touch, his eyes following my every move, and I whispered,

“You want me to stop?”

For a second, his face tightened, and he nodded slowly, almost reluctantly.

“Why?” I asked, my voice a gentle whisper, feeling the vulnerability in him.

My hands roamed over his body, and as I leaned in, I placed a soft kiss on the left side of his chest, just over his heart. He inhaled sharply, catching my hand as if to steady himself, as if he couldn’t hold back.

“What?” I murmured, raising my gaze to his face, searching his eyes for answers he wouldn’t say. But the hesitation was fading, replaced by a raw want that he could no longer hide.

Standing on my tiptoes, I brushed my lips lightly against his, first a soft peck, a gentle nudge that grew as I kissed his cheek, then his jawline, tasting the warmth of his skin. When I finally pressed my