Page 106 of This Wild Heart

“But I want you to try,” she whispered.

The blast of heat in my skin should’ve leveled the entire house. “Do you?” I asked quietly.

Slowly, Anya turned around and took my hands in hers, anchoring them at her hips while she braced her knee on the mattress, displaying her back and the delicious curves of her firm backside.

My mouth watered, some snapping, snarling beast inside me begging to be unleashed.

I skated my palm underneath the shirt, pushing it up just enough that I could see the curve of her waist.

With one hand anchored at her hip, I pulled the other out from under the shirt to wind her hair around my fist, then I tugged her head back until she could see me. I curled my chest over her back and stole a fiery kiss.

“Pretend you’re mine,” I said against her lips, my voice raw and demanding.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Say it.” I pushed my hips lazily, my hardness sliding between her legs, back and forth, back and forth, teasing her until she trembled.

“I’m yours,” she moaned. “I’m yours.”

My eyes pinched shut, a cracking sensation running straight down the middle of my chest. I fisted myself in hand, and the moment I pushed inside, that first single inch of searing heat and perfect wetness, I lost my fucking mind, a sharp thrust of my hips forward until I bottomed out completely.

We groaned in unison, and I held there for a perfect moment until she clenched around me.

“Parker,” she sobbed. “I … I?—”

Whatever she was going to say got lost in a whimpering moan when I pushed inside her again, harder this time. Anya turned her head and bit down on her arm to mute the sounds escaping her flushed pink lips.

I didn’t ask what she was going to say. I couldn’t.

On the nightstand, her phone rang, and we both ignored it. If it was him, he’d fucking wait the rest of his life before getting what he wanted out of her.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please.”

Instead, I gave her what she asked for. With ruthless hammering of my hips, the slap of skin against skin, I lost myself in her.

Fully.

Completely.

My thighs screamed from the effort it took to hold my release at bay, my spine shook as heat built and built and built, seeking an outlet.

Wait, I told myself. Just wait.

Give her this. Give her everything.

Everything. Anything. Whatever I had to give, it was hers.

It was fast and messy and hard, raw in a way that I wasn’t used to, because I felt so much, too much, and it built and built and built under my skin. I wanted it to last forever. Between gritted teeth, I said things I shouldn’t have, that she was perfect and sexy and I’d never seen anything like her before. That she was made to take me.

I didn’t think she heard me, though, because the noises we made—animal and frantic—were so fucking loud, it was a miracle if the baby slept through it.

She tightened around me, and I damn near blacked out from the force of it, watching the way she crumpled as her orgasm hit her like a lightning bolt, her arms unable to hold up her weight as her upper body melted into the bed.

Anya came on a scream, something she tried to muffle in the mattress, and as soon as she did, I clamped my hands so tight around her hips that I was worried I’d leave bruises.

Almost.

Almost.

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