Page 95 of Sinfully Yours

I grip the hem of her dress and pull it up, over her head, leaving her in nothing but lace. My breath catches.

"You're unreal," I murmur.

She arches a brow. "And you're overdressed."

I chuckle darkly as she reaches for the buttons of my shirt, her fingers working quickly. As soon as it's off, her hands roam my chest, nails dragging lightly across my skin.

It's not enough.

I lower myself over her, pressing our bodies together, skin to skin, heat to heat. She gasps, her back arching as I trail kisses down her collarbone, over the swell of her breast.

Her fingers tangle in my hair. My hands trace every curve, memorizing, worshiping.

She's fire and silk, softness and steel, and I want all of it.

Her thighs part beneath me, and I settle between them, my hands gripping her hips.

I pause to look at her.

Because even now, even after everything, I need her to know this isn't just about lust.

"Ava," I rasp.

Her fingers trail over my jaw, tilting my chin down so I have no choice but to meet her gaze.

And then she whispers the one word that destroys me completely.

"Please."

20

AVA

Liam and I undress each other unhurriedly.God, I think,if this is a lie, then truth itself is a phantom. Because holding him feels like the world snapping back into its rightful place. Like absolution. Like I can stumble, fall, be the fool I sometimes fear I am, and still find sanctuary in his arms.

Liam is above me, around me, pressing me into the bed like he's afraid I might slip away if he lets go.

But I'm not going anywhere. Not tonight.

The heat of his body seeps into mine, his skin burning where it touches me, where he presses against me, where he holds me still beneath him.

My breath catches as I trace my fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough scratch of stubble, the tension in his muscles.

Liam groans, low and wrecked, like he's been waiting for this forever. He crushes his mouth to mine, swallowing my gasp, his tongue sweeping against mine, deepening the kiss until I feel it everywhere.

His hands roam my body, slowly, reverently, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of me with his touch.

I moan into his mouth, arching beneath him, pressing myself closer, desperate to feel more.

It's not enough.

I need him closer. Deeper. Consuming.

His hands slip down my sides, over my thighs, then back up, tracing the lace still clinging to my body.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze dark, burning, sweeping over me like he wants to devour me whole.

"You're fucking perfect," he mutters, dragging his thumb over my stomach, tracing slow, teasing circles.

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