Page 121 of Rise
And he didn’t look away.
Hazel’s knees hit the edge of the bed as Beck grew near once more. She sat with a breath that caught in her chest, legs folding beneath her. He followed, lowering himself over her, one knee pressing into the mattress. Then came the other, the heat of his body settling into the space around her like a promise.
They lay down together, skin to skin, beneath the low flicker of the bedside lamp.
Beck kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, the curve of her breast. His mouth was warm and moving slow as he took one nipple between his lips, sucking until her back arched beneath him. Her hands fisted in the quilt as his stubble grazed her skin. He moved to the other side and tongued the tight peak there until her breath hitched, until her thighs shifted restlessly beneath him.
“Beck,” she breathed, a sound closer to a prayer than a plea.
He kissed down her stomach, soft and open-mouthed, his shoulders nudging her thighs apart. When he looked up at her, his eyes were dark and steady, his pupils blow.
And then he lowered his mouth to her.
The first stroke of his tongue made her gasp— sharp and sudden, pleasure igniting beneath her skin like flame finding dry leaves. He licked her again, slower now, more deliberate, using his thumbs to part her gently. He circled her clit, kissed it and sucked until her hips lifted against him. Then he flattened his tongue and dragged it through her, tasting her with a low groan. He sounded like a man who’d finally been given exactly what he’d been begging for.
Hazel’s fingers flew to his hair, her hips rocking in time with his mouth. She tried to hold back— years of instinct telling her to contain, to perform, to hide— but he didn’t let her. One hand settled atop her thigh, anchoring her in place, his tongue working her open with precision and care.
She came like that, after only a few more moments, with a cry that cracked in her chest, her body shaking, her hand clapped over her mouth— not to muffle the sound, but to catch it. To hold it. To survive it.
Beck kissed his way back up her body like he needed every inch of her again. She tasted herself on his mouth when they kissed again. It undid her.
She reached between them, found him hard and thick, and guided him against her hip, then lower, between her thighs. Her whole body ached for him, now. Not just physically, but in that deep, silent place where need had long been denied.
He paused, barely, their foreheads pressedtogether.
“You sure?” he asked, voice rough.
Hazel nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.Please,Beck.”
He slid into her with a groan, slow and stretching, filling her until her breath broke in her throat. But he didn’t move, not at first. He held there, inside her, forehead to hers, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
Then he began to move.
Each thrust was deep and measured, not hesitant, anchored in something aching and sure. His hands found hers, fingers lacing together. She squeezed back, trying to ground herself in the rhythm of it, in the weight of him. Her body opened around him like something remembered.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Her hands slid over the long line of his back, the curve of his spine, the warm, perfect imperfection of his scarred hip. She kissed the hollow of his throat, the corner of his jaw, the sweat-slicked ridge of his temple.
He moved like he didn’t want to miss anything. Like every breath, every shiver, every moan mattered.
They built to it slowly, like a fire tended by careful hands. Hazel whispered his name like a mantra. He buried his face in her neck, murmured something soft about how she smelled. Their bodies trembled together, rhythm tightening, sweat pooling between them. And when she came again, it ripped through her, hot and shattering, her whole body arching. She cried out, didn’t even try to stop the sound from escaping this time.
Beck followed with a groan, deep and ragged, emptying himself inside her as his body seized, then stilled, breath escaping him in a long, broken exhale.
They collapsed together, tangled and damp and breathless, the quilt half-settled beneath them, the room gone quiet save for the soft rasp of skin on skin.
He stayed on his elbows, pressing his forehead to hers, one hand still holding hers like it was the only thing that tethered him to the earth.
Eventually, he eased out of her and laid down beside her. Hazel reached for the quilt and tugged it up over them both. Beck curledan arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, her body fitting against his like it had always known the shape.
Hazel pressed her cheek to his chest.
And this time, when her eyes closed, she wasn’t running, she wasn’t holding back.
She let herself fall into the quiet.
With him.
With all of it.
