Page 225 of The Wright Man

His lips curved against me. "Say it again."

"I deserve it!" I screamed.

He latched onto my clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking against it like he wanted to ruin me.

And he did.

I shattered. A scream ripped from my throat as my back arched, thighs clamped tight around his head, and I came so hard I forgot how to breathe. He stayed right there, moaning into me, licking me through it, praising me like a prayer.

"That's it, Angel. That's it. You feel that? That's all yours. You earned that."

Before I could even float back down, he was still there, gentler now. Kissing me softly, lapping at me slow. Worshipping.

Then the pressure started building again. My legs trembled, nerves still raw, still begging. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Tell me again," he whispered, two fingers sliding in deep as he kissed my clit. "Tell me you deserve it."

"I deserve it," I whimpered, hips already bucking.

"Say it like you mean it."

"I deserve it!" I cried.

The second wave crashed through me harder than the first. My thighs shook, my voice broke, and something cracked open in my chest — not pain, but the thing behind the pain. The thing that had been locked behind Gavin's voice for four years, behind every self-blame spiral and every "maybe I deserved it." It cracked open and flooded out.

He kissed his way back up to my mouth, whispering against my lips. "One more. Give me one more."

"I can't—"

"You can. I know you can." His fingers curved inside me, finding the place that made my whole body bow. "Tell me you're worth it. Tell me you deserve everything I'm about to give you."

My voice came from somewhere raw and deep, somewhere I hadn't accessed in years.

"I deserve it," I said. And this time — this time — I meant it with my whole heart.

He made it true with his whole body.

By the time the third release tore through me, I wasn't moaning anymore. I was sobbing. My whole body shook, tears streaming down my cheeks as I screamed through it, my throat raw, my heart cracked completely open.

Maleek held me through every tremor. Didn't rush me. Didn't quiet me. Just stayed present, hands steady, voice low and certain against my skin.

He kissed his way back up, slow and reverent. My belly. My breasts. My collarbone. He kissed my tears, then my lips, letting me taste myself on his tongue as he murmured into my mouth.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

His words soaked into me deeper than any touch ever had.

I heard it. Really heard it. Not as background noise or a blur of sensation — those three words, chosen and deliberate, landing somewhere I'd kept locked for years. My chest tightened. My breath went quiet.

Then he pulled back, cupping my face, eyes locked on mine.

"Say it again, baby."

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper. "I deserve this."

He nodded, proud. "Don't forget it again."

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I melted there, letting the warmth of him, the strength of him, lull me into safety. His fingers stroked my back, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath my ear.