Page 239 of Terms of Exposure
I crossed the living room in long strides, her giggles echoing off the walls.
The sound burrowed into my bones.
This Emma was mine.
Only mine.
I shouldered the bedroom door open and tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce and a breathless shriek, hair fanning across the pillows, emerald green dress riding up her thighs.
Her gaze found mine—dark, wanting, dancing with laughter.
"You're insane," she said.
"Probably," I agreed, caging her beneath me. "Are you complaining?"
She explored my chest with her hands. Her fingers curled over my shoulder, pulling me down toward her. "Not even a little."
I kissed her smile first—quick, playful, matching the energy still sparking between us.
Then I dipped lower.
My lips found her jaw. Her throat. The soft skin just above her collarbone.
And then—the collar.
I traced it with my tongue, following the delicate links to where the pendant rested in the hollow of her throat.
The metal was warm from her skin, carrying her heat. Her pulse.
Mine.
The word moved through me like a ritual.
Devotion in its rawest form.
I pressed my mouth to the pendant, lips grazing its edge.
She shivered beneath me.
"Do you know what this does to me?" My voice came out rough. "Seeing this on you?"
"Tell me." A whisper.
I lifted my head, finding her eyes—dark and liquid in the low light.
"It makes me want to worship you," I said.
A vow spoken out loud.
She went languid beneath me, the urgent want dissolving.
There was no urgency.
No desperate need to chase release.
Just her—warm and willing beneath me—and the need to make her feel what I couldn't say.
I braced above her, taking my time.
