Page 82 of The Last Call Home
Not when every part of me is screaming to feel more of her.All of her.
She shifts slightly, chest brushing mine, and it’s over.My restraint snaps like it was never really there.
I kiss her again—deeper this time.Rougher.A low sound escapes me when her fingers grip my hoodie and pull me into her like she’s been waiting just as long to come undone.
Her back hits the wall, and she gasps, but it’s not surprise.It’s permission.
I lift her, hands under her ass, and she wraps around me without hesitation.We’ve kissed before, but this ...this is different.This is a beginning and a reckoning.
I want to love her in all the ways no one has ever dared to touch her.I want to leave no trace of doubt in her mind or her heart that I want her—all of her.Forever.
She gasps as I shift my grip, pressing her harder against the wall, her legs still locked around me, her hips tilting with instinct that wrecks whatever control I had left.
Our foreheads touch again.Her breath stutters against my lips.
“I need you,” she whispers.“Don’t—don’t hold back.”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes.They’re blown wide, lips kiss-bruised, jaw slack with want.And fuck if I don’t feel that need crawling through my bloodstream, wrapping around my ribs like it’s always belonged there.
“I’m not going to rush this,” I murmur.“Not with you.”
Her hands thread through my hair, tugging until our mouths meet again—deeper, wetter, a kiss that drags everything out of me.It’s not just want.It’s something fucking holy.
I lay her down on the couch like I already know I’ll never love another woman in this lifetime.Not after her.
I vow right now I’ll make her feel it.
Every inch.
Every promise.
Every broken part of me I’m giving only to her.
Because this—this isn’t just about sex.
It’s about claiming the one thing I didn’t think I’d be allowed to have.
Just skin and truth and everything we’ve both been too afraid to reach for—until now.
ChapterThirty-Three
Cassian
I sinkto my knees in front of her, my hands already finding the hem of her sweater.She lifts her arms without hesitation, surrendering.The fabric glides up and off, revealing skin bathed in soft daylight.My breath catches.
Her skin is flushed—kiss-stained, and glowing with warmth.I lean in, press my lips to the center of her abdomen, and feel the way she sucks in air like I’ve stolen it from her lungs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur against her.Another kiss, this one just above her waistband.“So, fucking beautiful.And right now ...you’re mine.You hear me?Mine.”
Her breath staggers.“Cass ...”
Her voice—raw, trembling—sinks into my bloodstream.
I pop the button of her jeans and ease the zipper down with an exhale that brushes her skin.My fingers dip just under the band of her panties, brushing the heat there, and I watch her reaction like it’s gospel.Lips parted.Eyes wild.Her chest rises and falls like she’s on the verge of shattering.
And I haven’t even truly touched her yet.
“You don’t know what it does to me,” I say, my voice low, reverent.“Seeing you like this.Needing me like this.”
