Page 53 of Holiday Interference
And that wrecks me.
I bring her knuckles to my lips again, brushing them with a kiss that’s more reverent than possessive. Her skin is warm against my mouth, trembling slightly as if her nerves are short-circuiting under the surface.
Maybe mine are too.
“Come with me,” I say, backing away just enough to tug her hand gently.
She hesitates for half a heartbeat before she nods and lets me tug her along with me.
We walk down the hall without a word, the floors creaking under our steps. Her fingers stay curled around mine, small and certain, like she’s holding on for more than just balance.
My heart beats harder with every step. Not fast, buthard. Like it’s working overtime to keep the rest of me from unraveling.
The bedroom still smells like last night. Like sweat and skin and my shampoo lingering in the sheets. My gut tightens as I let go of her hand and turn to face her.
“You sure?” I ask.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t waver. Her gaze is steady and so goddamn brave it guts me.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
I nod once, then reach for the hem of the shirt she’s still wearing—myshirt.
Her breath catches as I lift it slowly, revealing inch after inch of bare skin. My hands shake the slightest bit, but I don’t stop. I need to see her.
All of her.
I need to remember this moment when everything else feels too fucking dark to breathe.
She raises her arms, letting me strip the shirt over her head. Her nipples pebble instantly from the cool air—or maybe from the way I stare at her like she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Because she is.
I drag my knuckles down the side of her ribcage. Her stomach clenches, her breath hitching.
“Lie back,” I say, voice hoarse now. “Let me take care of you right.”
She hesitates just long enough to kill me. Then she climbs into the bed, slow and silent, like she’s giving me something she doesn’t give to anyone else.
I kneel between her legs, heart pounding so hard it echoes in my ears.
My hands slide to her thighs.
And I bow my head like I’m about to pray.
Because I’m at the altar of Noelle Jenkins, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
Her breath stutters.
Another kiss, higher. Then another, just beside where she’s already wet and trembling.
Her scent curls around me—salt, heat, something that makes my head go fuzzy and my cock press harder against the front of my boxers.
But I don’t rush. Ican’trush this.
Because if this is all I ever get again, I want to memorize every second of it.
