Page 124 of His Greatest Muse

“Only if I get to eat it off your naked body,” he mutters, the words so damn blunt.

“Liar. You don’t like cake.”

“You’re right. I don’t want any of that fucking cake. I want you.”

Heat crawls up my neck as I close the fridge and turn to face him. The desire in his eyes is almost enough to distract me from the fact that he’s still injured. It would be reckless to have sex so soon. So selfish . . .

“It’s not safe.”

“I don’t want safe.”

“Noah.” My voice is soft.

“Baby,” he rasps.

One foot after the other, he prowls toward me. My back meets the cool door of the fridge, and then he’s boxing me in, forearms kissing my cheeks. The hint of his usual scent lingers beneath the smell of hospital, and I breathe it in greedily, desperate for more. It settles something inside of me that’s been restless for days.

“You shouldn’t call me that,” I whisper. “It makes it hard to think.”

“I don’t need you to think right now.”

The whites of his eyes are so small compared to his pupils as they feast on me, a million tiny fangs nipping at my skin. I exhale and arch my back, bringing our chests together. The light brush of my nipples against his hard body threatens to sweep my legs out from under me.

This man undoes me with a simple glance. And when he watches me like this . . . it takes all my strength not to let myself get washed out by the waves of his unyielding tide.

“Baby,” he repeats against my mouth.

Warmth pools in my gut, slowly slipping lower and lower . . . “Josh is too close. I don’t know where Sparks is.”

“The prospect of an audience has never stopped us before.”

He smooths a possessive hand down my side, cupping my curves. The heat from his palm seeps into my bones when he grips my waist and yanks me against him. I reach for his lower back and dig my fingers into the thick muscle before sliding them down, over the ridge of his ass. Giving it a squeeze, I catch the quick flash of a smirk on his lips before my leggings and panties are tugged down to my knees.

“Noah!” I whisper-hiss, my eyes flaring wide.

He ignores me, hitching one of my legs around his waist and grinding against my wet, bare centre. “Not waiting any longer to be inside of you again. I’m fucking you right here.”

I moan my approval the second he’s dropping his pants and dragging one thick finger through my pussy. I’m already wet, which isn’t in the least bit surprising. Noah could spare me a second’s glance, and I’d be soaking my panties for him.

The first breach of his finger inside of me has me stifling a whimper by digging my teeth into my bottom lip. He flashes me a dark grin before adding a second finger and pressing his palm against my clit, moving it side to side. Shocks of pleasure twist up my spine, flooding my senses.

“You don’t have to hide your sounds from me. Let them know we’re home,” he coos, pressing hungry kisses to my cheeks and jaw.

I shake my head. “No.” Yet the idea makes me throb around his fingers, gripping him tight.

He captures my mouth, kissing me with a desperation that you would expect after going months without the taste of the one you love. I focus on the movement of his lips on mine, returning the ferocity.

The first stroke of his tongue along mine is met with a glide of his cock through my slit. My eyes snap open as I bring one hand to his neck and twirl my fingers in the hair there while gipping his ass with the other, encouraging him to move.

He notches himself at my entrance and opens his eyes to watch me as he thrusts inside. A growl gets stuck in his throat when he buries himself fully. My lips part in a silent cry, the feel of him inside me shooting me into oblivion. So full of him, physically and mentally. He’s everywhere. In everything.

It's him, it’s him.It’s him.

I choke on the words that try to claw their way up my throat when he starts to move, starting soft and growing more powerful. My stare drops to his side and the bandage that’s hidden beneath his shirt. I want to tell him to stop, to let me help so he doesn’t strain himself, but the moment he’s covering my throat with his hand, that worry is overrun with a hot flash of pleasure.

The thought of him disregarding his own safety in exchange for the bliss we bring each other in these moments turns me to goo. It’s fucked up.Sick. But I’m dripping down his cock anyway, release building so quickly inside of me that I worry I’ll wind up passing out from it before he joins me. Each thrust fills the kitchen with the sound of my arousal, and I no longer care if anyone hears. Let them.

Suddenly, my throat is constricted, his hand tightening its grip. The anger that swells in his eyes should scare me, but it does the opposite. I soften my expression and don’t fight against the tears that build in my eyes from the lack of oxygen in my lungs. It happens so quickly, and I let it. Let him use me to feel the emotions he’s been denying himself since he was attacked. Maybe longer than that.

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