Page 74 of They Are Mine

That’s all it takes.

That’s all it ever takes.

We don’t even make it to the bedroom before my pants are off.

By the time I’m pushing him onto the couch, he’s already half-hard, his body thrumming with anticipation.

I straddle him, rolling my hips just enough to tease, feeling the shape of him press against me through his jeans.

His hands go to my waist, not pulling, not taking, just holding.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

He’s so fucking sweet.

I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him into a deep, filthy kiss.

His groan vibrates against my lips, and I feel it in my clit.

I move against him again, slow and deliberate, letting him feel how warm I am, how ready I am.

He shudders, his fingers flexing against my hips.

I press my lips to his ear, whispering, “You don’t have to be so careful with me, baby.”

I roll my hips again, harder this time, enough to drag a delicious, wrecked sound from his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps.

There it is.

I kiss his neck, biting lightly, then suck just hard enough to leave a mark.

Mine.

Noah is mine.

He grips my thighs, breathing heavy, his body fighting itself.

He wants to be good.

To be gentle.

But I want him ruined.

I slide my hands under his sweater, dragging my nails up his stomach, feeling the hard muscle, the way it tightens under my touch.

He’s so warm. So fucking solid.

I lift his shirt off him, then run my tongue down his chest, his abs, teasing the deep V leading into his jeans.

He sucks in a breath, his cock twitching against his zipper.

I pop the button open, drag the denim down just enough to free him.

God.

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