Page 21 of The Fake Husband
My hand slides to the zipper. I pause there, fingertips resting against warm skin, just long enough to feel the way her breath stutters. Then I drag it down—slow. Metal teeth whispering open, inch by inch.
With every bit of skin revealed, I follow. My knuckles skim the smooth line of her back. The dip of her waist. The delicate groove along her spine. She shivers under my touch, her shoulders tightening before melting again.
“Cold?” I whisper against her ear.
She shakes her head.
The dress loosens its hold. Fabric slips over her shoulders, catching briefly at her hips before surrendering completely. It slides to the floor in a quiet sweep of navy at her feet.
Fuck.
My shirt joins her dress on the floor. Her hands go to my belt next, fumbling slightly before the buckle gives.
"Nad—"
Her eyes meet mine again. "Don't slow down. Don't be careful." She swallows hard. "I need you to fuck me like you've wanted to."
The last thread of control I've been clinging to snaps.
"Turn around."
She does, and I press against her back, one hand spreading flat against her stomach while the other sweeps her hair aside. My mouth finds her neck, teeth scraping lightly over her pulse point. She gasps, pressing back against me, feeling exactly how hard I am.
"Feel what you do to me?" I growl against her skin. "How much I want you?"
"Yes." Her head falls back against my shoulder. "River, I need you so much. I?—"
Backing her toward the bed, my hands roam her waist, her hips, the perfect curve of her ass. She's soft and warm and mine. Finally, fucking mine.
The backs of her knees meet the mattress, soft resistance stopping her retreat. She sinks onto it, hair tumbling loose around her shoulders.
I follow without thinking.
Nadine shifts backward on her hands, the sheets wrinkling beneath her palms, drawing me in with nothing but the look on her face. An invitation. A challenge.
I step between her knees.
My hands find the bed on either side of her hips as I lean over her, caging her in without quite touching. Her breath catches, chest rising beneath me. The space between us hums—close enough to feel the heat of her skin, not close enough to satisfy it.
She closes that gap herself.
Her fingers hook into my sides, tugging me forward until our bodies meet fully.
Nadine's legs slide up my hips without hesitation, circling my waist and locking there, heels pressing into the small of my back as if she’s making sure I won’t even think about pulling away.
Not that I would.
I lower myself the rest of the way, bracing my weight carefully as I settle over her. The mattress dips beneath us, sheets cool against my hands.
The heat of her through thin lace pressed against my cock makes me groan.
"Need these off," I say, fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips, helping me drag them down her legs. She kicks them off somewhere into the darkness.
I stand just long enough to shed my pants and boxers, watching her watch me. Her eyes widen slightly, lips parting.
Looking down at her—hair spread across the white pillows, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs open for me—something tightens in my chest that has nothing to do with just wanting to fuck her.
Later. I'll deal with that later.
