Page 52 of Mine to Hold
“What?” she whispered.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m already in your bed. You don’t have to?—”
He pressed his finger over her lips. “I’m saying it because I mean it. And also, I get the feeling you haven’t heard it enough in your life.”
A gasp echoed in the night as she sucked in a breath.
“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel less than. Not even me. You’re one special woman.”
“Thank you.” She palmed his cheek, running her thumb over his scruff. “This has to go.”
“I know. I hate it. My five o’clock shadow starts at three, and by nightfall, it’s out of control.” He smiled. “But not until tomorrow, unless you tell me otherwise.”
She gave him a good shove, rolling him to his back and straddling his hips. Ripping off her shirt, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it across the room.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched her, mesmerized by her confidence and beauty.
Their connection felt electric, every touch igniting a fire within them both. She traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips, teasing him with a mischievous smile. He couldn't help but be captivated by her, by the way she moved and the way she made him feel alive.
Her hair fell around them like a curtain, framing her face in an ethereal glow. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as she leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along his jawline and neck.
She tugged at his shirt, yanking it over his head, and then dotted kisses across his stomach.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Removing the rest of your clothing.” In an instant, his shorts were at his ankles.
“If I’m going to be naked, then you have to be too.”
“All in good time.” She curled her fingers around his length.
He hissed, dropping his head back on the pillow. His breaths came in short, choppy pants. He fisted the sheet and curled his toes, praying he didn’t turn into a horny teenager as he stared down at the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him. “That’s enough,” he managed to croak out, tugging at her hair.
She stared at him, licking her lips.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He slid off the edge of the bed, carefully removing her shorts and resting her legs over his shoulders. He kissed her intimately. Softly. Slowly at first. Savoring every lick. She tasted like honey and he wanted every last drop.
As he continued to explore her, she moaned softly, her hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. Her breaths were ragged and he knew she was close to the edge.
Her sweet scent filled the room. She wriggled with every touch, rolling her hips with the motion of his tongue.
“Yes, Emmerson. Yes.” Her climax slammed into his mouth.
He didn’t need anything more. Her pleasure was all that mattered.
But once again, he found himself on his back, with her on top. She wasted no time guiding him inside, grinding her hips against him with wild abandon.
His hands tightened around her hips, pulling her against him, as she threw her head back in pleasure. He groaned, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the heat and friction between them building up to a crescendo.
She moaned his name, her eyes locked on his, and in that moment, their souls were intertwined.
Their eyes meeting was the only thing he needed—proof that this was more than just carnal desire. It was affection, it was—dare he even think it—love, and it was everything he'd ever dreamed of.
Their bodies shook with climax, their hearts pounding in unison as she fell to his chest, their breaths ragged and intermingled.
He held her close, running his hands up and down her back, unable to speak for fear he might actually utter the wordsI love you. It was too soon for that. Way too soon. And with danger lurking at every corner, he couldn’t risk it. They would have time to discover more about each other. Time to fall in love properly.
