Page 202 of Before We Were

"Do you have any idea hearing you say my name like that does to me?” His voice is raw, almost tortured, and his eyes darken with something primal. "It drives me fucking crazy, Nora."

The way he looks at me—like I'm his salvation and destruction all at once—makes my heart stutter. His gaze drops to my lips, and before I can respond, his mouth crashes against mine again, stealing every coherent thought. It's overwhelming, intoxicating, the way he takes me apart piece by piece. I arch into him, needing more, craving the way his touch sets me on fire and soothes me at the same time. He pulls back just enough for his eyes to lock onto mine. There's something raw in the way he looks at me—primal and unrestrained—like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted.

He moves, and the next thing I feel is his hand sliding down, warm and deliberate, as if he's savoring every second. When his finger enters me, my breath leaves my lungs in a sharp gasp and the sheer sensation has me clutching onto him like he's the only thing keeping me grounded.

"Nate," I manage, his name breaking on a moan.

"I've dreamt of you like this," he whispers into my ear, his breath hot against my skin, sending shivers cascading down my spine. "For so fucking long. Come for me."

The word falls from my lips before I can think, a breathless whisper that's equal parts surrender and certainty. "Yes."

A devilish grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, wicked and devastatingly beautiful.

"Good."

My body arches against him, desperate and willing as he moves with an intimacy so devastatingly raw it feels like he's branding himself onto my soul.

"Nate…"

"What is it, Nora?" His tone is teasing, but there's an edge to it, a hunger that matches mine.

"I…"

"You what?" His smirk grows, dark and knowing as his pace quickens.

Every time he moves, my body screams for more. It's like nothing will ever be enough with him. He's unrelenting, driving me to the brink of madness, and I barely form the words, but I force them out.

"More."

"More what, Len? Tell me."

"I need more," I whisper, the plea cracking through the tension.

Another low, devilish laugh escapes his lips, and his eyes—those dark, amber-flecked eyes—grow impossibly darker, pulling me into their depths like a vortex.

"You want me to take you right here?"

I nod, but it's not enough for him.

"Words. I need your words."

It's possessive and tender, and it sets my pulse racing like a drumbeat.

"Yes, Nate. Yes, I want you to fuck me right here," I say, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “Please.”

An animalistic groan escapes him, low and primal, and I feel it reverberate through his chest, straight into mine. His hands tighten on my hips, and his lips crash against mine with a ferocity that's intoxicating. He devours me like he's starved, his movements deliberate and intense, his body pressing against mine with the kind of need that makes me feel like I'm the only thing keeping him alive.

His free hand roams my body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. His fingers press into my hips, his palms exploring the curve of my waist, and I memorize the way he feels—strong, unyielding, yet impossibly tender. My hands run across the hard planes of his chest, his shoulders, and down his arms, marveling at the strength in his muscles. Every ridge and curve of his body is burned into my memory, and I can't stop myself from tracing them, wanting to know him in every way possible.

But it's not just a yes to this moment.

It's a yes to him—to everything he is and everything he's asking of me.

Because I know as I look into his wild, amber eyes, that I'd do anything for Nate Sullivan.

All he'd have to do is ask.

And I know how dangerous that is.

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