Page 58 of The Gentleman

She’d never let anyone take control like this. Ever.

He didn’t stop, didn’t soften. Instead, he gripped her tighter, hauled her closer like he meant to unravel her completely, his fingers digging into her flesh.

His tongue dragged, circled, pressed as he built a rhythm—merciless and precise.

She grabbed his hair with one hand, her other scrabbling against wet tile for balance. Pleasure crested, flooded her and all considered thoughts dissolved.

Thick fingers pushed inside her, stretching and filling, while his tongue returned to her clit with expert certainty. Her body responded. She couldn’t hold back.

“God—Leo—” Her voice broke, then she did. She came fast and hard, everything inside her pulling tight, then fracturing, her knees giving way.

He caught her before she could fall, rising as she sagged against him.

Her palms found his chest—slow and deliberate this time. She dragged them down, over wet skin and scars, until her thumbs reached the band of his trousers.

Breathless, she met his gaze, fire in her blood. “I’m done pretending you don’t matter.” She yanked hard.

The waistband gave. Buttons flew.

He shoved his trousers down, the water-slicked fabric dragging over his hips and thighs, then gone. He kicked them off along with his shorts.

Kat’s eyes dropped. Her breath snagged hard in her throat.

Jesus.

She reached for him, hot and heavy in her palm.

He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as if her touch undid something deep.

His hands were already on her again—at her back, down her thighs, lifting. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slammed her against the wet tile with a force that rattled the glass panel. A shelf clattered to the floor, bottles scattering.

She didn’t care, wanting only to feel the weight of him, the strength. She wanted it brutal.

Real.

She had waited far too long.

He kissed her like a man starved—biting, deep, like he meant to imprint the taste of her in his memory. His hips ground into hers, making her gasp, making her writhe. She was saturated—every nerve, every breath—everything in her demanding more.

“Now.” Desire made her voice break. “Now, Leo?—”

He groaned like a desperate man. “Condom.” His voice cracked as she touched him. “We should… I don’t…”

“I’m clean,” she murmured against his mouth. “You?”

“Always,” he breathed, forehead to hers. But his eyes searched hers, fierce and conflicted. “If we do this…”

“I’ve got an implant.”

His jaw flexed—still calculating risk, even now. Always protecting.

“No more holding back.” She bit his lower lip. “I’m tired of being careful about everything that matters.”

They might never get another chance.

He answered with a growl that vibrated in her bones, then slid a hand between them. Without finesse or patience.

Just need.

---