Page 96 of Broken Trails
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He leans in, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. “Tell me what you need, Freckles.”
God. He can’t say shit like that. Not when I’m already coiled so tight I could snap. My body aches in a way I’m not used to.
“I need you to stop talking,” I whisper.
“Why?” His voice drops lower. “Afraid you’ll say something you actually want?”
I don’t answer. His smirk deepens as he inches closer, the space between us shrinking until there’s nowhere to look but at him—at his mouth, his dimples, at his eyes, at that infuriating curve of confidence on his face that’s so earned it should be illegal. His hand slides under the blanket, slow and steady, brushing my thigh.
My breath catches. My skin feels too tight. The rough warmth of his palm drags upward, skimming over the curve of my hip, and I’m buzzing. Everywhere.
“You want something?” he asks. “Need something?”
I want to snap something back. Something sarcastic. Something to hide the fact that I’m practically vibrating under his hand. But I don’t. Because I do want something.
I want all of it.
His voice dips even lower. “I need to kiss you again, Freckles. You gonna let me?”
I nod, just once. Barely. And that’s all it takes. His mouth is on mine before I can take another breath, and it’s nothing like the first kiss. This one is deeper. All tongue and heat and teeth. His hand slides around my back and pulls me into him, anchoring me against his chest like he can’t stand even an inch of space between us. I melt into it.
My thigh slides between his without thinking, seeking the anchor his body offers, and his strong leg hooks over mine, pulling me closer. His cock presses into my stomach, thick and hot beneath his briefs, and I don’t shy away. Not for a second. Not even a little. Because with him, there’s no room for self-consciousness.
Not about my curves.
Not about the stretch marks scattered across my skin.
Not about the parts of me I’ve been told are too much—or not enough.
Because the way he looks at me?
It’s hunger. Reverent. Like every inch of me is exactly where he wants to be.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re unreal.”
My fingers wander up the solid planes of his chest, mapping the ridges and valleys of muscle, feeling the faint tremor that runs through him at my touch. His hand drifts lower, pausing for the briefest heartbeat.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
“Don’t.”
Michael’s fingers slip between my thighs, pressing through the thin fabric of my shorts, and my body bows into him before I can stop it.
“I… need this.” The words tumble out, shakily. It’s almost desperate. He hooks his fingers in the waistband, easing my shorts down like he’s savouring every inch of skin he uncovers.
The fabric slides off my hips, pooling low, leaving nothing but the barely-there strip of my G-string. His palm curves over my ass, gripping with enough force to make my breath hitch. He squeezes once, hard, then gives a teasing shake that sends a rush of molten heat straight between my legs. All the while, his mouth stays locked on mine—hungry, claiming—until he shifts, lifting my leg and hooking it over his, caging me in closer.
His fingers ghost over my clit through the thin lace. It’s the faintest touch, but it shoots lightning through my veins, every nerve sparking alive. A breathy moan slips into his mouth before I can bite it back.
Michael’s lips press harder to mine, more urgently now, as his hand shifts. He pulls the lace aside, and when his skin meets mine—bare against bare—a soft, broken whimper escapes me.
A low growl vibrates in his chest. He catches my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, while one long finger drags down the seam of me, before dipping lower. The anticipation has me shaking. He eases the tip inside—just a tease—before pushing deeper. I’m already slick with arousal, and he knows it; the glide is easy, unhurried, almost torturous. Another finger slides in alongside the first, his touch confident, possessive, before curling them deep inside, hitting a spot that rips a gasp from my throat.
The sound is so helpless, and there’s no taking it back.
