Page 40 of Knot in Bloom
“Tell me what you need.”
“You. Just you.”
He captures my mouth again, this kiss desperate and consuming. I can feel him hard against my hip, and knowing I affect him this much makes me bold.
I reach for the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel skin against skin. He helps me, shrugging out of the fabric. In the dim light, his chest looks sculpted, marked with scars that speak of places he’s been and things he’s survived.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, tracing one with my fingertip.
“Sadie.” My name sounds like prayer when he says it.
His hands find the hem of my sweater, and I help him pull it over my head. When his gaze drops to my breasts, barely contained by my simple bra, his breathing turns ragged.
“You’re gorgeous.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me feel powerful, desired, worth this kind of attention.
“Can I?” His fingers trace the edge of my bra, asking permission.
“Yes.”
The bra disappears, and then his mouth is on my breast, tongue circling my nipple until I’m writhing beneath him. When he sucks gently, pleasure shoots straight to my core and I cry out his name.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against my skin. “Better than I imagined.”
“You imagined this?”
“Every night since the berry festival.” His confession makes me ache with want. “Thought about touching you, tasting you, making you come apart in my hands.”
Color floods my cheeks as fresh arousal pools, and from the way he groans, he can smell how affected I am.
“I want that,” I gasp as his hand slides lower, fingers tracing the button of my jeans. “Want you to make me come apart.”
“Fuck.” He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
But his hand is already working at my button, sliding my zipper down with careful precision. When his fingers slip beneath my panties, finding me slick and ready, we both groan.
“So slick,” he says with satisfaction. “All this for me?”
“All for you.”
He explores me with gentle thoroughness, learning what makes me gasp and arch and moan his name. When he finds my clit, circling with just the right pressure, I see stars.
“That’s it,” he encourages, voice rough with want. “Let me hear you.”
When he slides one finger inside me, I cry out and rock against his hand.
“More,” I beg. “Please, Caleb, I need?—”
He adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously, thumb never stopping its motion against my clit. The dual sensation makes me wild, desperate, climbing toward something that feels bigger than anything I’ve experienced.
“You’re incredible,” he groans, fingers moving in a rhythm that’s driving me insane. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
“I’m close,” I gasp, every nerve ending on fire. The tension builds and builds, my body drawing tight like a bow. “So close, please don’t stop?—”
The phone rings.
We both freeze, panting hard, staring at each other in disbelief.
