Page 128 of Every Shattered Note
And she does.
She moves with purpose, with hunger, with this rhythm that destroys me one slow grind at a time.Each bounce of her hips drives me deeper into her, tighter around me.She pants my name like it’s the only word she remembers.
I swear I’ve never been this far gone.
And I don’t want to come back.
God, what the hell is happening to me?
This was supposed to be ...well, I have no fucking idea where this woman came from with that energy and light that I never knew I needed in my life.
Since the first time she came into my life, she completed me, and I don’t want to live without her.Was it love at first sight?I have no idea, but whatever I feel is all hers.
It’s her.
It’s Aly.
My Aly.
And the way she moves on me—slow and raw, like she’s savoring every second—it’s not just about sex.It’s about everything we haven’t said.Everything we’ve buried under timing and distance and fear.
She rocks against me, her hands braced on my chest, her hair sticking to her neck, her lips parted and trembling.She’s chasing something—and dragging me with her.
And I let her.
I give her everything—my hands on her hips, my mouth on her breast, my body straining up to meet hers with every thrust.
But it’s my thoughts that betray me.
I want more.
I want mornings with her wrapped around me.
I want to hear her moan like this in my bed.In every room of this penthouse or any place we live—together.
I want her hand in mine in public.
I want her laugh in my kitchen—our kitchen.
I want her toothbrush next to mine.
She gasps and grinds down harder, and I’m right there with her.My fingers dig into her waist, anchoring her to me like I’m afraid she’ll vanish.
“Dex—” she moans, and her voice fractures—like she’s coming undone right there in my hands, on my lap, around me.
That sound.
That broken, beautiful sound.
It punches through my ribs and settles somewhere below logic, where everything about her starts to rewrite what I thought I knew about wanting.I cup her hips and roll mine up, searching for that spot inside her that made her voice break like that.
And when I find it—when her whole body tightens in response—I stay right there, circling my hips in tight, deliberate thrusts, not letting her escape the edge she's about to tip over.
“Right there?”I rasp, my voice ragged.“Is that where you want me?”
She nods, breath hitching, nails dragging down my chest like she’s trying to hold on.
“Then come for me,” I whisper, watching her fall apart like it’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever seen.“Come for me, sweetheart.Right here.With me.”
