She gasped, arching into him.
He stilled. “Okay?”
A soft laugh. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
He pushed in. Slow and controlled, gritting his teeth against the need to just take, just bury himself and forget everything except this.
Heat. Tight, slick—stealing every thought from his head.
He moved deeper. Inch by careful inch. His control fracturing with every second because she felt like nothing he’d ever?—
Fuck.
“God, Wyatt…” Her head tipped, the long line of her throat exposed to him.
He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything except breathe and hold himself still while his entire body screamed at him to move. She was so fucking tight, her body clasped around him, and when she shifted her hips—taking him deeper—a groan tore from his throat.
“Jen. Jesus. I?—”
He didn’t finish, just dropped his forehead to hers and concentrated on not losing it right there.
He moved. Slow, careful strokes. Testing. Learning. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his face, framing his jaw, and he opened his eyes.
She was looking at him.
He couldn’t look away. Should have closed his eyes. Locked it down.
But Jen held him with her gaze, her hands gentle on his face, and for the first time, he wasn’t bracing for impact—he let it hit.
He thrust deeper, his control slipping not because he wanted to lose it, but because she made holding it pointless. Her body rose to meet his, hips lifting, and the breath she released against his mouth sent fever tearing through him.
“More,” she whispered. “I won’t break.”
A sound escaped her—low, desperate and utterly wrecked—and it burned through him like fire.
He lost the careful and drove deeper, rhythm overtaking restraint as she gasped against his mouth. Her legs came up,wrapping around his waist, careful of his injured thigh, binding him to her.
He was still aware of her bruises. Still angling his body to protect them. But his movements were less careful, and when her hand slid into his hair and pulled?—
A sound ripped from him. Primal and unchecked.
He buried his face in her neck because he couldn’t let her see how deep she’d gotten, how far past the last line she already was.
She held him while he thrust into her, rhythm breaking apart, the thought burning through him with every movement.
I’m in over my head.
But he no longer cared.
He slid his hand under her back, pulling her up into him closer than should have been possible. His other hand found hers, fingers threading together above her head, anchoring him to the only thing left that felt real.
He couldn’t stop or slow down. His body had taken over, every ounce of control he’d held onto for hours shattering into nothing.
Her breathing changed—hitched and sharp—and her body clenched around him.
“That’s it.” His voice was a wrecked groan. “Come for me.”
Jen arched under him, body tensed around him as she cried out against his shoulder, her teeth digging into muscle.
