Page 136 of Yearn
Alone.
Private.
Uninterrupted.
Mine.
The house above us could rot.
The sedatives I dosed Scott with could fail.
None of it mattered.
What mattered was that the patient I’d been starving for.
The cure I’d been denied. . .was now here.
And it was the sweetest victory.
A surgeon’s clean incision.
A diagnosis correctly confirmed.
A patient healed.
Thrilling.
Precise.
Absolute.
My aching cock throbbed, pressing against the inside of my jeans like it was the one organ I couldn’t anesthetize. I was slowly learning that victory had a pulse, and it beat between my legs, demanding release.
God, I want to ruin her.
Her erotic heat smoothed into me.
Her curves were a study under my hands.
Her breasts brushed my chest with every breath, full and soft, making my cock twitch harder against her thigh. Even her stomach—the give of flesh under my palm—tempted me to mark her deeper, but when I slid my hands lower to touch her there, she pushed my hands away with a defiant shake of her head. “No.”
A low growl escaped me. “Why can’t I touch you there?”
Shame flickered in her eyes. “Since. . .I’ve gained weight. . .I’m just uncomfortable with being touched there.”
My chest tightened.
For a split second, rage flared—at myself, at the world, at anything that had ever convinced her she wasn’t enough.
Her shame was a diagnosis I’d never allow to exist.
“No, Teyonah.” I pressed harder on her belly, carefully , so she’d feel the hunger in my palm. “This is fucking beautiful and this is mine too. You don’t get to move my hands when I’m enjoying how gorgeous you are.”
“Dominic—”
“You think I don’t worship every inch of you? This,” I dragged my hands slowly over the soft swell of her belly, “is where I will want to lay my head when I’m done tearing your pussy apart. This is where you’ll carry the life I’ll put inside you in a few months.”
She blinked her eyes. “What?”
