Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She leans into me, kissing me back with the same hunger I feel in every inch of my body. Her hands pull at my jacket, then my shirt, and I can feel her pulse racing against my chest.
“I need to feel something good,” she whispers into my mouth. “After that. I need—”
“You will,” I say, already pulling her closer. “I’ve got you.”
I don’t rush. I won’t. Not tonight. Tonight is about her.
I pick her up easily, feeling her legs wrap around me, her arms around my shoulders. She kisses along my jaw, her breath warm against my skin, and I carry her to the bedroom without breaking stride.
Her room is dim, quiet, faintly scented with vanilla. I set her down carefully on the bed and slide my jacket off. She’s already working at the buttons of her top, but I stop her with a gentle touch.
“Let me.”
She goes still, watching me, trusting me. I ease her blouse off one button at a time, sliding it off her shoulders and down her arms. Her bra follows. The moment our bare skin touches again, her breath catches.
I kiss her again, softer and slower this time. I want to hear every sound she makes and feel very shift of her body. Her legs tighten around me as I slide my hands down her sides, memorizing the curves, the warmth of her skin, the way she arches up into me.
She lifts her hips so I can take off her jeans, and I do it slowly, pressing kisses to her stomach, then her thighs. I trail one kiss down the inside of her thigh and feel her tremble under me.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“I’m okay,” she says. “I just need you.”
“You have me.”
I don’t say the rest. That she’s had me since the moment I first saw her.
I strip down fully, then pull the blanket over us as I slide back onto the bed beside her. I don’t rush the rest. I want to learn her body the way I’ve already learned her laugh and her voice, her hesitation when she’s unsure of something but brave enough to keep going anyway.
I run my hands along her waist, kissing the line of her neck to her collarbone and then to her breast. She moans softly and threads her fingers through my hair. I keep going, tasting her skin, touching her like the privilege it is.
She’s soft everywhere and so responsive. I ease her legs apart and press a kiss between them, feeling her gasp before she can stop herself. I look up once, just to see her expression.
She’s flushed, beautiful, and desperate for more. I can’t help but give it to her.
I take my time, tasting and teasing her deepest parts. I watch her writhe and gasp, arch and whimper, until she’s gripping the sheets and calling my name. Only when she’s trembling, breathless and spent, do I finally move up over her again.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper, brushing the hair from her face.
“Please,” she says, voice shaking, “I want you inside me.”
I brace myself on my elbows, kiss her again, and slide into her slowly, carefully, watching every reaction on her face. She bites her lip, holding onto my arms, her thighs wrapping tighter around my hips.
“Look at me,” I say.
She does.
I start to move, slowly at first, then deeper. Her breath hitches and I stop.
“Are you still okay?”
She nods, a tear sliding from the corner of one eye. “Yeah. Just don’t stop.”
At her request, I keep going deeper and steadier, until we find a rhythm that makes her cling to me like I’m the only thing holding her together. She digs her fingers into my back, gasping into my ear, her hips rolling against mine with more need than I’ve ever felt from anyone. She’s so tight, so warm, and so goddamn perfect that it takes everything in me not to lose it too fast.
I kiss her again, harder, and hold her through it as she shatters a second time, her cry caught between her throat and mine. I follow a few moments later, burying my face in her neck as everything inside me spills out with her name on my lips.
We stay that way, tangled and quiet, with the only sounds our breathing and the distant hum of traffic outside her window.
15
LYRA
Damien’s breathing slows gradually against my neck, his arm still wrapped around my waist like he’s anchoring us to this quiet little bubble we’ve created. His skin is warm, his presence steady, and even though we haven’t said a word in minutes, I feel everything he isn’t saying in the way he holds me. Like I’m his. Like he doesn’t want to let go.
And I don’t want him to.
But somewhere beneath the warm haze, guilt creeps in. I should have told him. I should have said something earlier, before we ended up in bed again. Before he made me fall harder. I was going to. I told myself I would.