“I don’t want you to take your time.”
“I know.” His knuckle trails down the center of my chest, achingly slow, between my breasts, down my sternum. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.”
I grab his wrist. He lets me hold it but it doesn’t stop him from slowly tracing patterns on my stomach like we’re not both losing our minds.
“You’re infuriating,” I manage.
“You love it.”
I do, and that’s what annoys the hell out of me. His hands on me feel so good. I want more.
His mouth drops to my throat, and I tip my head back for him. He takes his time kissing and sucking, his lips and scruff dragging along my pulse point, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder like he’s memorizing my skin.
I squirm beneath him, seeking some kind of friction, but he pins my hip gently, holding me still. “Stop rushing me.”
“Stop making me wait.”
He lifts his head just enough to meet my gaze, and there’s something in his expression that sucks the air from my lungs. It’s dark and so open that I almost forget what I was asking for.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole goddamn life, Sawyer. So I’m going to take as long as I want to ruin you for anyone else.”
I roll my lip between my teeth, unable to form words. If only he knew he’s too late for that. I’ve been ruined for anyone else long before tonight. There’s no reason to fight him. I curl my fingers into his hair, and surrender.
He plants slow torturous kisses down my chest, across my ribs, along the soft skin of my stomach, his scruff leaving a trail that makes me gasp.
Just when his mouth reaches the band of my underwear, he stops and works his way back up, completely unhurried, paying extra attention to the spot where my hips curve. Asshole knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You have freckles here.” He kisses along them. “Did you know?”
I shake my head, breathing hard.
“You’ve kept them hidden from me all these years. Not anymore. I’ll learn every inch of you.”
God help me.
I shift beneath him, seeking his thigh, needing something, anything, to relieve the ache that’s been building since the moment he walked through my door. I find it and my breath stutters.
He lifts his head.
“Are you grinding on my thigh right now?” The sound’s almost amused, but there’s a rough edge too. I’m getting to him. His composure will crack.
“Shut up,” I breathe, doing it again.
His hand comes down to grip my hip, not stopping me, just holding, feeling the movement.
“Sawyer. His voice drops an octave, his fingers tightening.
I roll my hips again, slower this time, holding his gaze while I reach up and run my palm over his cock.
“Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes. My muscles clench. I’m so damn close to coming from practically nothing.
“Look at me,” I say, emboldened by his lack of restraint. His eyes open, dark with his pupils blown, unguarded and barely keeping it together. “Knox, I need you.”
Whatever restraint he had left snaps clean in half. He grabs my wrist, pins it to the mattress above my head, and looks down at me with an expression that makes my whole body clench.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I whisper.
