Page 91 of Her Name in Red
As if sensing my impatience, he pauses, his breath hot against my skin. “Let me have this,” he murmurs. “Let me show you.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His mouth moves higher, his hands spreading my thighs wider. When his lips finally press against my center, I arch off the bed, a strangled sound tearing from my throat.
“That's it,” he encourages, his tongue circling my clit with maddening precision. “Let me hear you.”
I grip the sheets, my head thrown back as he works me with his mouth. It's too much and not enough all at once. I want to pull away, to run from it. But his hands hold me steady, anchoring me to the moment.
Just when I think I can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving me gasping.
“Tease,” I accuse, shifting restlessly.
His laugh is warm against my skin. “Patience,” he murmurs. “I've been wanting to taste every inch of you since the moment I saw you.”
“You've already tasted plenty,” I remind him, thinking of all the times his mouth has been on me before.
“Not like this.” He nips at the soft skin of my stomach. “Not when you know.”
“Know what?”
His eyes meet mine, serious now despite the intimacy of our position. “That you own me. Body and soul. And fucking heart, Maren.”
Something flutters in my chest. Something dangerous and beautiful. I reach down, running my fingers through his hair, gentler than I've ever been with him before.
He turns his face into my palm, pressing a kiss there. Then his mouth is moving again, trailing up my ribs, between my breasts. When his lips close around my nipple, a gasp escapes me, my back arching into his touch. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
He works his way upward. Each touch is like a benediction, a silent prayer against my skin. His mouth traces the hollow of my collarbone, the column of my throat, the underside of my jaw.
My eyes flutter closed as sensations overwhelm me. This isn't just sex or desire. It’s love, at least I think it is. It has to be.
When his lips finally reach my face, he pauses. I feel his breath against my cheek, warm and steady. His fingers brush my hair back from my forehead with such gentleness.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I open my eyes to find his face inches from mine, his gaze intense and unguarded. There's no mask there, no pretense. Just Riggs, laid bare.
“I love you,” he says again, the words hanging in the air between us. “I love every fucked-up, beautiful part of you.”
My chest constricts, lungs forgetting how to work. It's too much—the way he's looking at me, the weight of his words. I can't breathe through the flood of emotion.
He's loving me out loud, with words and touch and that look in his eyes that says I'm everything. And I'm drowning in it.
“Riggs,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper. It's the only word I can find.
His thumb traces my cheekbone. “I know,” he says. “It's scary as fuck.”
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising us both. “Yeah,” I agree. “Scarier than anything we did tonight.”
His smile is soft, understanding. “Scarier than anything I've ever done.”
He presses one more kiss to my lips before moving away. My body already misses his warmth as he slides down between my legs again. I can feel his hands spreading my thighs wider, his breath hot against my skin.
“Planning to cum all over my floor again just from eating me out?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him. “Because you did a shit job of cleaning it up last time.”
His laugh vibrates against me, sending a jolt of pleasure up my spine. “Worth it,” he murmurs against my inner thigh. Then without warning, he pushes two fingers inside me, his mouth latching onto my clit.
“Fuck!” The word tears from my throat as my head falls back. My hips buck against his face, but his free arm holds me down, pinning me to the mattress.
