Page 108 of The Exit Strategy

My eyes drift closed, and then he has a hand at my back, dragging me forward so my legs wrap around his waist, evidence of his need pressing into my core, and everything I’ve ever wanted is finally within reach.

“I’ll only ask this one time, and then you’ll truly be mine, so make sure.”

I nod, panting, as I glance up into his stormy eyes.

“Are you sure that this?” His hand on my back presses me against his body again. “Is what you want?”

I blink to clear the cobwebs, but my answer is as clear as anything I’ve ever said. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His chest rumbles so much the vibration rolls through our bodies, but his gaze—his gaze softens into something I’ve never experienced before—unfiltered love.

Before I can respond, he has two hands under my thighs and is lifting me. I tighten my legs around his waist, clasp my hands together at his neck, and hold on while he walks with me in his arms toward the stairs.

He doesn’t even break a sweat as he climbs to the second floor or when he slams his bedroom door shut with his foot.

I’m not sure he even blinks as he lowers me gently to his bed—the one room in the house I’ve actively avoided. The room is decorated for comfort but with feminine touches too.

Insecurity crowds my emotions for only half a second because that’s when I see it.

Across the room, in a frame. The only photograph I can find in here, and it’s of us dancing at Nolan’s graduation party.

Cole follows my line of sight, then cringes. “Now you know,” he rasps before climbing up my body on the bed.

“Know what?”

“That this is all I’ve ever wanted too.”

He doesn’t allow me a moment to absorb his confession because he’s lifting my shirt up over my breasts, then over my head and following the path of skin with his lips, teeth, and tongue. When he tosses my shirt to the floor, he backtracks down my torso to the band of my sleep shorts.

“Jesus Christ, Junie.” His hands cup my breasts—squeezing, pinching, weighing. He licks, kisses, and nips along my hip bone, across my center to the other side. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

I can’t speak because if I do, I’ll say something to ruin this moment—something stupid, or snarky, or just…

My head lolls as he slips his fingers into the sides of my shorts and slowly lowers them. Pressing my feet into the mattress, I help by lifting my hips, allowing him to remove everything until I’m completely bare before him.

For the longest moment, he just stares at every inch of exposed skin. When I’m about to curl into a ball and die of embarrassment, he places his big hands on my knees, then slowly pulls them apart, opening me up to him in every way.

“Look how wet you are for me.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Cole Whittaker has always been sexy.

Dirty-talking Cole Whittaker might be my undoing.

“C-Cole.” Who the hell am I? I don’t freaking…melt. Yet here I am, a giant pool of want under his gaze.

“Here’s how this is going to work, baby.”

My lashes fly so high I’m sure he can see all the whites of my eyes. It’s his tone. It’s…different. Dominant in a way I never, ever believed I’d obey.

“You,” he rumbles, “fight me every chance you get. I like it. I love it even, but in here?” He strips himself naked and takes all the moisture from my mouth too. I’ve never actually seen a V like that on anyone. My last romance book called it a cum gutter, but I didn’t get it before.

Now I do.

His cock bounces free when he lowers his pants to the floor, and I’m having a hard time paying attention to anything else. It’s long and thick with a vein on the underside I want to press my forefinger to just to feel it pulse.

Cole wraps a fist around his thick shaft, and he’s never looked more confident.