Page 74 of The Verdict

Rhys inhaled deeply, his teeth finding new purchase at the seam of my thigh. “Fuck, you smell amazing.”

I sucked in a breath, letting my eyes drift shut as I felt the heat of his breath like a predator stalking over my skin. Lower and lower. Closer and closer.

“I’ve dreamed of tasting you since that first night. Since the first time I kissed you, I wondered if the rest would be as sweet. As tempting. As sinful.” My lungs swelled. My heartbeat held off. All of me stopped, poised at the edge of life itself, waiting for him.

“Fuck, Merritt.”

I bucked against the first contact of his lips. Hot and demanding and hungry. His mouth covered my core, ravenous, like a man held under the ocean and given his first taste of oxygen.

Words tumbled from my mouth, unbidden and unstoppable, begging him to take more. My hands speared through the wet of his hair, curling and slipping in the strands as I tried to pull him closer.

“Don’t move,” he ordered as I writhed against him, the discomfort in my side a distant memory compared to the pleasure fizzling and sparking in my core.

The massive flat of one palm slid over my stomach, all the way until his arm formed a massive bar over my hips, forcing me to obey—forcing me to be careful of my wound. And when I was steady, his tongue set back on my clit like it was his own personal mission to see how quickly he could make me combust.

Every stroke of his tongue, another lick of flame. Every suck, a riotous pop of energy. The tight bundle of nerves was on fire from the way he devoured it. My head tipped backbecause it was the only part of me that could move. His mouth was making me lose my mind.

“You taste better than I fucking imagined,” he growled, pushing a finger back inside me and then sliding it out along my seam. I tried to concentrate on breathing, but my brain couldn’t get past how much he was enjoying this. The way he consumed me. The sounds he made. The ragged fall of his chest.

“Is this the truth, Merritt? Is this how bad you want me, or is your delicious little cunt lying, too?” There was an edge to his tone, but not from anger. I realized it was fear as he lapped up the rush of moisture my body clenched onto his tongue.

“No.” I shook, wanting to be angry but too strung out to feel anything but need. “I want you, Rhys.” My breath rushed out in a tremulous exhale. “I want you more than I should.”

His teeth bit into my clit, and I jolted with a cry as he soothed the sting with a slow lick.

“Dios mío.”I swore the coil of pleasure would be the end of me. The tight twine of need threatened to shear my soul straight from my skin. It was the kind that made a fool of both truth and lie. Real and fake. It was everything.

“Fuck, Merritt.” His arm latched down hard across my hips, the curl of his fingers found my front wall just as his lips sealed over my clit. He sucked so hard it had me seeing stars as my orgasm crashed over me again.

I screamed his name and let the violent waves pull me under. For long moments, there is no light or air, nothing but the feel of his mouth.

I was still shaking when I peeled my eyes open, the low, rhythmic sounds he made against my sex soothing the tender flesh. With gentle licks, his mouth carries me back down to reality. Back to the bed. Back to the house. Back to the garage.Back to the present.

“Rhys.” I tried to tip his head so I could look at him.

I wanted to do more than look at him. I wanted to touch him—to give him the same release he’d given me.

Eyes like bottomless pits found mine. His full lips were red and glistened with my slickness, and in some magical universe, it made him unimaginably hotter. I wanted to taste him. Needed to.Dios mío,I’d tell him every truth if he’d let me pleasure him in return.

My lips parted, prepared to beg for his cock, when an unmistakable buzz rippled from the bathroom through the silence.

“Fuck,” he swore, biting into the inside of my thigh, his big body vibrating with unquenched frustration as he gave my hip one last squeeze and slid his fingers from my body.

His face contorted with pain as he stood. The bulge against the front of his wet jeans was unmistakable… and unbelievable. I pushed myself up to reach for him, but he was already gone—into the bathroom to get his phone.

While he was gone, I gingerly put on the sweatpants and tee he’d brought me of his to wear to sleep in.Another of those tender inconsistencies he tried to ignore.

“Rhys—”

“Is your side okay?” he demanded when he returned, coming to the side of the bed like he was going to ask me to show him.

“What is it?” I asked instead.

Whatever it was had buried his ragged lust under the weight of responsibility. Duty. “I need to go.”

“Will you come back?”

His jaw pulsed. “I can’t.”

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