Page 102 of The Rookie

He hums against my lips, smiling as he shifts, rolling me under him.

“Mm,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to smirk against my mouth. “Now this? This is worth celebrating, baby.”

twenty-eight

. . .

Avery

The second thedoor slams behind Gavin, a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying lifts off my chest.

It’s over. Completely, fully, finally over.

And the moment that realization settles in—Griffin is on me.

I barely have time to breathe before his hands are on my waist, lifting me off the bed and onto his lap, his mouth crashing into mine.

I whimper against his lips, my body already burning, already needing more, my hands gripping his damp hair as he kisses me deep, slow, deliberate.

Like he’s making up for lost time.

Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment to finally, fully take me apart.

His fingers trace my spine, skimming up under the sheet still clutched around me, his knuckles brushing bare skin, teasing, coaxing.

My breath hitches, my thighs tightening around his hips, and he smirks against my mouth.

“Relax, Sinclair.” His voice is low, rough, thick with amusement. “We’ve got all night.”

I let out a shaky exhale as he tilts my chin up with his thumb, forcing me to meet his gaze.

His eyes are molten heat, watching me like he’s memorizing every little reaction, every little tremor that gives me away.

“You don’t have to rush anymore,” he murmurs, his lips dragging down my throat, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to my skin. “You don’t have to think about anyone else. Just me.”

I shudder, clenching my thighs tighter, but he slides a hand between us, palming my hip, keeping me still.

“No,” he whispers, his mouth brushing my ear, teasing me with a light scrape of his teeth. “Tonight, I take my time with you.”

I let out a sharp gasp as he flips me onto my back in one smooth motion, the sheet slipping lower as he pins me to the mattress with his body, his weight pressing me down in the best way.

I should be embarrassed by how easily he handles me, but I’m too far gone, too desperate, too lost in the slow drag of his hands down my stomach.

"Griffin—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that’s pure, calculated sin.

“You’re gonna let me wreck you, baby,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice silk and gravel and promise.

I shudder, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body arching into him.

His hands skim lower, fingers teasing, taunting, barely brushing over where I need him most.

I whimper, my hips shifting, desperate for more, but he grins against my skin, completely unfazed.

“Patience, Sinclair.” His lips ghost over my collarbone, tracing a path down my chest. “I told you—I’m going to take my time.”

I suck in a breath, my whole body on fire, aching, strung tight from anticipation.

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