Page 243 of Terms of Exposure
I love you.
She broke the kiss first. "Please, Damien, I need you."
I couldn't have denied her if I'd tried.
My hands fumbled with my belt—clumsy, urgent—shoving my pants down just enough to free myself. I was aching, desperate, harder than I'd ever been in my life.
I pulled her closer, closing the distance between us in one slow, devastating motion.
My head fell to her shoulder. A low groan ripping from my throat.
She was warm and wet and perfect, her body welcoming mine.
Mine.
"Emma—"
Her arms wrapped around me, nails scraping the skin of my back.
"I've got you," she said.
We moved together.
Slow. Deep.
I kissed her shoulder. Her collarbone. The swell of her breast. Every part of her I could reach while still moving inside her.
"You feel so good," she whispered against my skin. "So good, Damien."
I couldn't respond. Could barely think.
All I knew was her.
The feel. The taste. The touch.
My hips rolled into hers, and she gasped, nails biting into my shoulders.
I did it again. Slower this time. Deeper. Watching her face, cataloging every flicker of pleasure.
We'd been together dozens of times—rough, tender, everything in between.
But this was different than before.
Her hand cupped my face, her thumb stroking my cheek.
"I love you," she whispered.
I love you too,I begged—but the words still wouldn't come.
Instead, I turned my head and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"Always," the only word I could muster.
The tension built slowly—a tide rising between us, inevitable and unstoppable.
Her breathing changed first. Shorter. Sharper.
Her body tightening around mine in ways that made restraint impossible.
