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I take a breath and move past the cycle. “I want to be enough for you.”
“Fuck,” he growls, his pupils flaring. “You think you aren’t already? Say the words, and I’ll show you how wrong you are.”
“I…”
“Say them.”
I’m not sure if it’s a demand to give him what he wants or a plea to set him free. Either way, I can’t resist it. I can’t resist this. We were both kidding ourselves if we thought we could. We knew the minute he agreed to let me stay here where this would lead.
In the end, it doesn’t matter what he’s keeping from me.
He’s my Kryptonite. I think I might be his too.
“I need you,” I whisper, shaking with the profundity of that statement. I do need him. Like air or water or hope. I’ve needed him for three years and have been drowning without him for just as long. He’s my port, my anchor, the one damn thing in this world that makes sense to me.
He lifts me off the couch into his lap, his strong arms engulfing me. The pillow lands on the floor beside the ottoman as my legs encircle his waist. I wrap myself around him like a koala bear, clinging like I don’t intend to ever let him go. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay right here forever.
His lips land against mine, one hand plunging into my hair to angle my head. Bliss ignites fires in my veins, sending smoke signals straight to heaven. This is what joy feels like. It’s his lips against mine, his predatory growl vibrating against my chest. It’s his hard body against mine, one hand on my ass. He ruins me with a single kiss, and oh! The pure ecstasy of it.
“You taste like sugar, sweet Raven,” he mutters against my lips. “I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off you now.”
“Good. Don’t,” I gasp, running my hands all over his back. His shoulders are so broad. It’s strange. I’m tall and curvy, but on his lap, I feel small and dainty. Even though he’s beneath me, his sheer size still overwhelms me. He overwhelms me in the best way possible.
His tongue tangles with mine, and my mind ceases to function. He’s heat and liquid steam, setting off explosions in places I didn’t know existed. I thrust my hands into his hair, gasping as my entire body seems to surge to life at the same time, clamoring for attention. My clit throbs, my nipples aching. I squirm on his lap, overwhelmed with the urge to move.
His teeth clamp down around my earlobe. The sting sends a jolt straight to my clit.
“You keep wiggling like that, I’ll have you naked in two seconds, songbird,” he says against my skin, his voice gritty. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
“Cut it.” I’m not sure where the demand comes from. Years of pent-up desire, maybe. But it comes out powerful, and confident. I’m a mess of competing desires, aching to go places I’ve never been, but I’m not unsure or hesitant. I made my decision. There is no going back now.
He nips my earlobe again, his stubble scraping deliciously at my skin. His fingers tug at my hair, sending chills throughout my system. His other hand skims across my ass as he grips me hard, holding me in place. “I hope you’re ready for me, sweet Raven. You’re mine now.”
Yes. Oh, God, yes.
Before I can respond, he rakes his teeth down the tendon in my neck. My entire body quivers. A moan rolls from my lips, his name bursting on my tongue in a song of ecstasy. I dig my nails into his skin through his black Friday Harbor police t-shirt, clutching him to me.
“Harder,” he grunts. “I want your marks embedded in my skin, princess.”
I give him what he wants, digging my fingers into his broad shoulders hard enough to leave indentions. His body is rock solid beneath mine, unyielding. He’s hard and hot, the most real thing I’ve ever touched.
“You were on the beach,” he murmurs against my neck. “I can taste the salt on your skin.”
“Yes,” I gasp. I sang to the ocean today, letting the wind carry my confession out to sea. Rhys hasn’t heard my song yet. No one but the waves has heard it. But I wrote it for him. When I sing it Friday, I’ll be singing it for him.
“And yet you still taste like sugar.” He shifts us, gently laying me out on the ottoman. It’s one of those massive square leather ones that run the length of the sofa. I feel like he’s laying me out on a bed.
He lands on his knees between my legs, staring up at me in reverence. His green eyes are so dark, so full of mystery and awe, as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. With him, I feel that way. He emboldens me, empowers me, and brings me to life in ways I never imagined.
One big hand grips my hip, holding me steady beneath him. The other slides up my leg, starting at my calf. His palm is rough against my bare skin, but it feels like silk too. My skin turns to gooseflesh, reacting to his touch. He notices. His eyes lock on my leg, watching in rapt fascination as he trails his hand higher and the gooseflesh climbs with him.
He stops when he reaches the leg of my shorts. His fingers skim just below the hem, teasing at my inner thigh. He teases at the waistband too, running his thumb back and forth, back and forth. He never goes any higher than my thigh or any lower than my waistband, but somehow manages to make me crazy anyway.
My clit aches and pulses, pleading for attention. Pleading for him.
“Rhys,” I moan.
He leans forward and kisses me again. The tip of his tongue dances with mine…teasing there too. He gives me just a little taste. Just enough to make me ache for more. I crave this man with an intensity that’s overwhelming.
