Page 36 of Her Broken Biker
It makes the hunger in me go quiet around the edges.
Makes room for something worse.
Something softer.
I kiss higher, over the towel first, letting her get used to the weight of my hands, the heat of my mouth, the fact that nothing happens unless she lets it.
“I don’t want wanting this to feel wrong,” she says.
That one nearly takes me apart.
“Then look at me.”
She does.
“I’ll keep you with me the whole time.”
Her lips part.
I grip the edge of the towel. “Can I?”
A beat.
Then her fingers loosen.
“Yes.”
I unwrap her slowly.
Every inch of her makes my control bleed.
Soft hips. Full breasts. Round belly. Thick thighs pressed together like she thinks she can hide herself from me. Like I’m not already gone.
Her gaze drops.
I catch her chin gently. “Don’t.”
“I’m not...” She swallows. “I’m not small.”
“No.”
Her face tightens.
I lean closer. “You’re soft. Warm. Curvy as hell. And if you think I’m sitting here fighting for my life because I want less of you, you’re wrong.”
Her eyes shine.
“I mean it,” I say. “Every inch, Reina.”
A shaky breath leaves her.
I kiss the inside of her thigh.
Her head tips back.
There.
I keep my hands steady, my mouth patient, moving higher and letting her feel me get closer. Her breathing turns shallow. Her body goes tense under my hands, waiting, wanting, unsure what to do with either.
