Page 74 of The Final Faceoff
The second my “yes” leaves my lips, his hands are on me—firm, possessive, everywhere.
His fingers slide beneath the hem of my tank top, skimming the bare skin of my waist, teasing the band of my sleep shorts, testing just how far I’ll let him go.
And the answer?
As far as he fucking wants.
His grip tightens, his chest rising and falling fast, like he’s barely holding himself together. But he doesn’t rush. No, he drags it out, savoring the fact that I’m trembling.
“You have no idea what you just agreed to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my jaw, my cheek, my temple.
I shudder. “Leif?—”
“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. “I’ll take care of you. Gonna make sure you never feel this desperate again. You understand?”
I don’t get the chance to answer, because his mouth claims mine, deep and consuming, like he’s been starving for this.
And maybe he has.
Maybe we both have.
My fingers sink into his shoulders, nails digging in as he kisses me until my mind spins and my body aches, pressing his body against mine, letting me feel exactly what I do to him.
He’s hard, thick, completely unrestrained.
And he wants me.
I moan into his mouth, hips shifting instinctively, chasing friction, but he grips my thigh, pinning me in place.
“Not yet,” he rasps, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag his lips down my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse.
My breath catches.
His hands slide lower, palms rough against my bare thighs, and then—oh.
He pulls away slightly, just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You gonna let me have you, Hailey?”
I swallow hard, my pulse thundering, my skin too tight. “Yes.”
His growl vibrates against my throat. Then everything blurs. One second, I’m lying next to him. The next, I’m flat on my back, my sleep shorts sliding down my legs, my tank top bunched up above my waist.
Leif drags his gaze over me, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself.
“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” His voice is gravel, thick and wrecked. “So fucking pretty. So perfect.”
A rush of heat rolls through me, a full-body flush that has me aching, throbbing, desperate.
He notices.
Of course he does.
He smirks, his hands sliding up the inside of my thighs, pushing them apart, opening me up.
“You’re already wet for me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing where I need him most.
I whimper, hips jerking, but he holds me down.
“Patience,” he chides, his tone dripping amusement, control. “I’m gonna take my time with you, Hailey. Gonna make you fall apart so many times you forget your own fucking name.”
