Page 109 of The Rookie

I should stop. Be decent. Let her rest.

I shouldn’t trail my fingers down her side, shouldn’t press a slow, lazy kiss to the corner of her mouth, shouldn’t let my lips drift down the column of her throat, her collarbone, lower.

But I do.

“Even too sore for this?” I murmur against her skin, my lips trailing lower, brushing over the swell of her breast, down, down.

She sucks in a breath, her fingers threading into my hair, tightening just enough to make me groan.

"I—" She hesitates, then exhales, already giving in. “Griffin. You’re insatiable.”

I grin against her stomach, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin there.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Yes. Ohh, that’s good.”

I drag my lips lower, my hands smoothing over her thighs, coaxing them apart, kissing a slow path between them.

And when I finally settle between her legs, dragging my tongue over her in one long, teasing stroke, she moans, her hips arching, her hands tugging at my hair.

I smirk against her, pressing her back down, holding her still.

“Relax, Sinclair,” I murmur, my voice low, rough, full of promise. “Let me take care of you.”

I feel her tensing up, and I pop my head up one more time.

“Hey.” I run my hands over her thighs. “I’m serious. Do you ever just take a fucking break? Shut your mind off, and let me take care of you?”

“I…have a hard time shutting my mind off.”

“Well, shut it off. Let me take control, baby. Lay back. Relax.”

“Okay.”

She lets a deep breath out, and I physically feel tension leaving her body.

Then, I do what I told her I was going to do.

And I take my time, just like last night.

I lose myself in her. In the way she gasps, the way she moans, the way she trembles under my tongue.

And even though I know this is dangerous—that every time I touch her, I fall harder, deeper, beyond the point of no return—I don’t stop.

I don’t stop because I want her to need me like this.

I don’t stop because I need this, need her, need to prove to her in every possible way that she belongs to me, even if I can’t say it out loud. Even if it’s just for the moment.

I don’t stop because I know that when this week is over, she’ll be gone.

And if this is all I’ll ever have of her, I’m going to make it count.

Mostly though? I don’t stop because I love doing it for her, hearing her moans, tasting her.

“I just came again,” she groans, her hands gripping my mop of hair. “How are you so good at this?”

“You bring it out of me, baby,” I groan. “Now be a good girl one more time for me. You still seem stressed.”

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