Page 63 of Bunker Down, Baby

God, she’s soft everywhere I touch. Warm and willing and just a little bit trembling.

“You’re burnin’ up,” I murmur against her mouth, grinning when she shivers again. “That from the fever out there, or the one you got in here?”

She lets out a breathless little laugh, half-laugh, half-whimper, and I feel it pulse straight through me. Makes my grip tighten, my mouth trail kisses down her jaw, down her throat.

I suck at the soft skin there, just enough to mark her.

She gasps. “Wade.”

“Shh, I got you,” I whisper, fingers sliding down, catching the waistband of her pants and tugging her closer until she’s standing between my legs again, her thighs brushing mine, heat pressing right against where I’m already hard and aching for her.

I look up at her from beneath my lashes, hands stroking the backs of her legs. “You gonna let me take care of you, honey?”

She nods.

That’s all I need.

I stand slowly, body rising to cover hers, my hands never leaving her as I guide her backward toward the bed. Her knees bump the mattress, and she sits with a little gasp, looking up at me like I just offered to rearrange her stars.

I kneel in front of her. No games. No teasing.

Just both hands sliding up her thighs, parting them gently, like I’m peeling open something sacred.

“You know what I love about you?” I say, voice low, eyes locked on hers as my fingers stroke slow circles along the inside of her thighs.

She swallows, eyes dark, lips parted.

“You talk a big game, but right now? You’re shakin’ for me. Sweet little hands balled in the sheets like you’re gonna fly apart if I blow on you too hard,” I say.

She lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and I smile, because yeah, that’s the sound I was after.

“I like a girl who knows how to take what she wants,” I whisper, brushing a kiss to the inside of her knee. “But I love a girl who knows how to let herself be given to.”

Her breath catches again.

And I go slow. So slow.

Because that’s what I do. I make it last. I make it mean something.

And when I finally put my mouth on her, she forgets how to breathe.

Her breath catches as I kiss the inside of her thigh again, just above the knee this time. My hands spread wider, thumbs brushing up toward where she’s already warm and damp for me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, watching the way her chest rises, shaky and fast. “That’s it. You just keep sittin’ pretty for me, darlin’. Let me take my time with you.”

I kiss a little higher, then higher still, trailing heat with every inch. I feel her thighs tense beneath my hands, feel the way her fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white like she’s bracing for impact.

But I ain’t even touched her where she needs it yet.

That’s comin’.

I press one soft kiss right over her panties, lips warm against damp cotton. She gasps, hips twitching, and I grin against her. “Shit, honey… you’re soaked.”

She whimpers. Whimpers.

And it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.

I hook my thumbs into the waistband and slide her underwear down her legs, slow enough to watch her breathe harder for every inch I uncover. When I toss them aside, she spreads a little wider for me, like her body already knows I’m about to worship it.

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