Page 85 of Cross-Checked

He drags my pants and underwear down my legs, and I step out of them with one foot so I can spread myself open for him. When his hot breath meets my clit, he glances up at me and whispers, “Tell me to stop.”

I press my tongue against the top row of my teeth, then use it to wet my lips. I feel desperate and out of control, and I know this is probably a bad idea. And yet I can’t make myself care.

Trailing a finger along the seam between my legs, he brings the moisture there up to my clit, lightly circling it with his finger. All I want is more pressure, more friction.

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, “and I will. But if you don’t, I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to fuck you like I’m furious with you for the way you walked out on me yesterday.”

“Areyou furious?”

“What do you think?” His finger pushes back, sliding right into my slick entrance, and there’s a dangerous edge to his voice that I find thrilling.

“Don’t stop,” I plead as he dips his face forward so that his tongue meets my clit, and he adds a second finger as he works himself deeper and harder, stroking me in a way that has me nearly breathless.

It seems like only seconds have passed when I feel the telltale signs of my orgasm—that tingling ache that radiates out from my clit through the rest of my body, the pulsing that’s starting deep within my core, the clamping of my muscles around his fingers as he hums a growl of approval against my clit intensifies everything.

“Fuck.” The hushed word escapes on a pained sigh. I don’t want to be quiet right now, but I want to get caught even less. “Oh god, don’t stop...I’m so close.”

And when he pulls my clit between his lips with a soft sucking motion, I know that I’m coming undone for this man—not just in the way the waves of my orgasm ripple through me, but also in the way my heart pounds like it only wants to beat closer to his, the way my body curls forward, my hand wrapping his jaw in my palm like he’s a cherished object, the way my mouth wants to utter promises of a future together that I’m not sure are possible. When he looks up at me, meeting my gaze, I see the same feelings mirrored back at me.

I could spend forever with this man.

But if this relationship doesn’t work out, it could actually break me.

The minute my orgasm subsides, he’s lifting me, spinning to pin me against the door with my legs wrapped around his hips, and sliding into me. He sets a punishing pace, fast and hard as he fills me until I feel like I can hardly breathe.

He nips and kisses up the side of my neck until his lips meet my ear, where he murmurs, “I once thought that raising a daughter by myself would be the hardest thing I’d ever do in my life. Turns out, pretending I don’t have feelings for you is, by far, the hardest thing I’veeverdone. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

I lean my head back against the door as he kisses his way back down my neck and to my breasts, teasing one nipple with his mouth and the other with his hand, working me into such a frenzy that I’m not sure I can hold my own thoughts in, either.

“I want this, too, Ronan. I really do. But...we need to figure out what a relationship between the two of us can even look like.” I’m breathing hard, almost unable to form words. Which is probably for the best, because I don’t want to make promises to him while he’s buried eight inches deep inside me...I want to make them with a level head and a clear heart.

“We will,” he assures me, the whispered words warming my breast. “First, I’m going to give you another orgasm, like only I can. And then we’re going to figure out a path forward.”

He changes the angle of his hips, and the delicate glide of his skin against mine, the sound of our bodies meeting, the thin sheen of sweat across his forehead and temples—this whole experience has my emotions overtaking me, right as he says, “Because I don’t want to do this life without you in it.”

My whole body warms, stomach fluttering. “Yes,” I hiss out the word as I chase the second orgasm that no one but him has ever been able to give me. “We’ll find a way.”

That promise has his mouth claiming mine, kissing me like he’s trying to brand me while his hand dips between our hips. With his palm pressed flat against my abdomen, his thumb finds my clit.

As he works me closer to that orgasm, he rests his forehead against mine, and with eyes locked on me he says, “God, I justwant to possess you. I want to worship you and own you at the same time. I want to respect you at work and disrespect your body at home. I want every last one of your orgasms, and I want your heart. But I want you to give it to me willingly, once I’ve shown you that you can trust me with it.”

My physical and emotional feelings are all-consuming, and then I realize that he’s moved his hand to the base of my neck, pinning me to the door. The thrill that the feeling of not being able to breathe brings on—the spike of panic, calmed immediately by the knowledge that he’d never hurt me—has my release starting deep inside me and spreading so quickly I feel like I might explode. I clamp my legs around him even tighter, holding his hips in place so he’s barely moving as I feel my muscles working his orgasm out of him.

He lets go of my neck and kisses me through our shared climax, like he’s worried I’ll scream his name if he doesn’t prevent me from doing it. He might be right.

When every last sensation finishes flowing through me, leaving my body buzzed and sated, I wrap my arms around his back, pulling him tighter against me as I cling to him. “We’ll figure this out,” I assure him.

“How?” The word is whispered and vulnerable.

“I’m going to talk to Frank.”

His head rears back and he looks down at me. “You’re sure you’re ready for that? You don’t want to wait until the end of the season?”

I hear what he’s not saying:After the GM of the Year award is announced.

“Maybe that’s what Frank will think is best. But I need to tell him about us, and officially recuse myself from your contract negotiations. Istillwon’t be able to talk to you about that, but at least there will be no concern about me giving you some sort of preference in the negotiation process.”

He snorts in response, but it’s not the sound of him trying to hold in a laugh. No, this is a fully derisive sound.

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