Page 108 of The Americana Playbook

I was right. The entire world changes in those milliseconds when our lips aren’t together, that space in time when we gasp for just enough air to keep going. I can’t worry if it might be for better or worse because there isn’t time to think about later whennowhas never felt more significant.

So I hold onto that, to Fitz, who has become mynow, even if it's under false pretenses, who was mythenwhen I had no one else.

It hits me—Fitz has been my always.

Breaking the hold of our hands, I cup his face, my nails scratching at his beard that’s grown out of it’s neat trim for our engagement party yesterday. My fingertips coax something out of him, like I’ve lured a hungry bear from its cave after a long winter. Between swallowing the tail end of his moan and gasping for my next breath, he’s brought a thick, strong thigh on top of mine. The weight of him sandwiches my legs tighter together, teasing me with friction.

“Fitz…”

God, the warmth of his leg nudging mine open heats me from head to toe. Immediately, I clamp down on it, and he hisses against my mouth, the sound some sort of key to an ignition I didn’t know I had been carrying around.

The missing piece, I think to myself.

Fitz glides a hand to my hip, his fingers stretching and slipping beneath the thin fabric of my tank top. When I let out a moan, he curses against my lips before pulling his mouth away and leaning his forehead to mine.

“I want to touch you.” His words are quiet, but the desire that echoes behind them is deafening. “But only if you want it. Only if you tell me it’s okay.”

His eyes are cast down at our tightly packed bodies. I bite hard into my lip—so intensely I might draw blood, but I can’t help it. Watching the way his mouth parts and his eyes darken as I grind into his thigh only makes me throb harder.

Fitz sucks in a hefty dose of air through his nose. “God dammit, Parker. I need you to say it.”

I don’t even realize how intensely I’m circling against him until I feel my pajama shorts gathering and bunching together. I don’t realize howhardhe is until I slide higher up his thigh.

“I want you to touch me. Ineedyou to.”

When our lips meet again, they do so openly. Our tongues tangle, playing a game of catch as we toss noises back and forth—whimpers from me, deep groans from him. It’s a vicious and exhausting and yet I don’t want it to end. I only want to broaden the sphere, so I trail a hand down his bare chest and head south. But with a quick reflex, Fitz catches my wrist, leaving only my fingers to dust against his straining length.

“No. Show me first,” he says against my mouth. “Show me where you want me to touch you.”

My fingers flex, desperate to find him even though Fitz has my wrist gently restrained. I’ve been touch starved before. But this, the way I’m desperate to feel every inch of Fitz, this is a famine.

Fitz’s face softens, like he’s about to give me what I want before it twists, and he shakes his head.

“No.” He clears his throat after the first word comes out hoarsely and then leans forward, sticking his face into the crook of my neck, dragging his nose up to my ear that he nips at. “This is aboutyou. I”—he pauses—“wewouldn’t be able to handle that.”

I can’t think about what he means beyond sayingno. I whine again.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses back down, letting his tongue trace the shallow valley of my collarbone. “You like to beg, don’t you?”

I throw my head back, giving his tongue all of my neck. I have no words, only a hum, to answer. But for good measure, I manage to beg again. “Please.”

“I’m going to make you sick of it. I promise.” He slides his hand higher, the tip of his finger tracing the bottom curve of my breast. “But not tonight. Tonight, you take what you need without asking.”

I twist my hand in his hold and Fitz lets go, bringing it down to his shoulder. When I pull at him, his lips graze my skin as he shakes his head, sending a stream of chills across my body.

“If I get on top of you, that’s a surefire way to make it about me.” He brings his lips back to my ear the moment he rolls my taut nipple between his fingers.

I cup the back of his head. “You told me to think about you.”

God the feel of his smile against my neck is foreplay all on its own. I grind down, circling my hips against his strong thigh. I’m tense and holding onto him for dear life as he worships my skin with his mouth.

“Fitz, please.”

“No begging, Parker,” Fitz growls, sliding his face from my neck and kissing me. “Justtakewhat you want.”

Still grinding against his thigh, I cover Fitz’s hand now kneading my breast and squeeze it before directing it down against my bare stomach. Our foreheads touch and I watch close up as his eyes flutter shut as I bring it down resting it at the barrier of my pajama shorts.

“I wantyouto take me.”

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