Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) by Jennifer Loring

sight of a body that hit the gym three times a week but was softer in places than she’d like. Not that it mattered to Alex, who hadn’t learned to take her for granted. She held up the shirt. A white button-down from the big-and-tall section, it hung to her knees and swallowed her hands. The cotton smelled of detergent and cedar.
    “I know what he did.”
    She whirled around. She’d figured out early in life to lock doors when she’d discovered how immaterial her privacy was to certain people, the narrative of her childhood written by the person who would take it away. She’d forgotten to lock this one.
    Diffuse light from the desk lamp cast the room in a placid, golden glow. Alex, wearing only lounge pants now, was leaning in the doorway, appraising her with those hungry eyes. “That looks very cute on you, by the way.”
    “Alex! You scared the shit out of me. Who did what?”
    “Your father. I know what he did.”
    The words burrowed into her ears like worms. Her stomach constricted. She ordered herself not to cry. “Why would you even—?ˮ
    “You flinch the slightest bit when I touch you, but you thought I didn’t notice. When you’re startled, you get this look in your eyes like something terrible is about to happen.” Alex moved the arms she had crossed in defense so she could hold him instead. “You never told me.”
    “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.” Why did I throw that back at him? She sank onto the bed, fingers clenched and anxiety burning a hole through her chest.
    “I suppose I had that coming.” He sat beside her. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Stephanie. Those little cracks you feel inside don’t mean you’re broken. Everything you thought he ruined is still right here. And it’s beautiful.” He skated his fingers over her cheek. “You are so beautiful, baby.”
    “Alex—ˮ
    He touched a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it. Please. Not right now. Just tell me what your heart says.”
    “Can’t you feel it?” she whispered. I love you.
    His skillful, silken tongue dove deep into her mouth, coiling with hers. She slipped her hands over his hot skin. She memorized him with her fingertips, each bruise and cut, the sculpted muscles, the dark hair drizzled over his chest and lower belly, his six-pack abs. His muscles jumped a little when she stroked his skin, like an electric shock passing between them.
    Alex laid her down and kissed her neck, her throat. His hips swayed against hers in the cadence of an act she could not allow to reach its natural conclusion, his cock hard beneath the flannel pants. He undid the first button on her—his—shirt, then another, and another, revealing a strip of bare flesh all the way to her navel. Every hair on her body rose as he trailed a finger down the center of her body. He unfastened the rest of the buttons and pushed the fabric aside, exposing her breasts, then blew across each nipple. He massaged her, sucked, and rolled his tongue over them. She was trembling, her nerve endings raw and screaming. Alex kissed his way down her belly, licked the inside of each thigh, and kissed each hipbone. More kisses along the creases of her pelvis before he tugged her panties down and flung them to the floor. Kissed her swollen outer lips, his mouth a gentle breeze on her inflamed flesh. Her skin fluttered. If he wished to play, she would gladly be his piano.
    He slid two fingers into her. She huffed, arched her spine, and spread her legs wider. He flicked his tongue over her clit and tapped his fingers inside her. A feral moan clawed its way out of her throat. Joe didn’t like going down on her; she had to beg for it. And he would have never thought to get her off first, ignore the impulse to prioritize his own gratification.
    Fuck Joe. Figuratively speaking.
    She gulped as much air as her lungs could hold. Alex lapped at her, and she twisted her fingers into his dark hair, pushing his face into her. He removed his fingers and skimmed them along