Page 140 of The Exit Strategy

It’s as though I’ve given him permission for something he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to have again, and the gratitude I find in his eyes is everything.

Cole Whittaker has been waiting for me to tell him what I want, and I took a page right out of his own playbook—I did it without saying a word.

“Sweetheart.” The command, the plea, the complete honesty in his tone tugs at my core.

I lower my mouth to his ear. “Slow,” I whisper. What I mean is, intentional.

We’ve fucked, and it was everything I needed.

Now, I need to know what it all means.

“As slow, as long, as hard or soft as you want, baby.” His hands roam free across my skin, and I arch into his touch.

I roll my hips against his hard length that’s still covered by cotton.

“All morning.”

He flips me onto my back. “And then some.”

His mouth moves down my body the way a man moves through a house he built with his own hands—every turn deliberate, nothing rushed, every pause and nip intentional.

He knows my body as though he wrote the code for my pleasure.

I scrape my nails over his scalp, and he growls against my hip bone.

“You’re perfect. So.” He presses a kiss along the elastic of my panties. “Fucking.” Another kiss lands at the apex of my thighs, and I groan. “Perfect.”

His gaze lifts to mine right when his fingers slip beneath the elastic of my panties. He’s waiting for permission, and I nod greedily.

It seems as though that was the last barrier he was waiting on permission for. The second I’m free from the damp silk, his large fingers open my pussy. His tongue, his glorious, magical tongue, licks a line straight up my center.

“Cole,” I gasp. That’s all I can form because he flicks my clit with his tongue until the tortured bud is swollen and throbbing. Then he bites it, and my legs tremble.

“Slow,” he reminds me.

I’ve made a grave error in judgment.

One finger enters me, and I sag in relief, but relief is not what he’s offering today. Today, it’s a slow lesson in seduction.

A slow lesson I all but demanded.

“I—I’m running the show today.” There’s zero conviction in my words.

He chuckles, and the vibrations nearly send me into an orgasm, but the jerk pulls back at the last second.

“You’ll get your turn, Viper.”

He seals his lips over my clit and sucks and sparks tinglealong my spine. Without warning, he enters me with two fingers, scissoring, exploring, reaching for a button he apparently has the GPS coordinates for because he locks down on my G-spot a moment later.

“C-Cole.”

“I think I’ve waited my whole damn life to hear you say my name like that.”

He licks again, and my hands take purchase in his hair. I tug and pull and beg without words, but he goes…slow.

Nightmarishly slow.

My hips buck against him when his magical fingers press inside me again. My upper body twists and turns as he fucks me thoroughly, unhurriedly, languishingly.