Page 117 of The Clinch
Leo catches it. But he doesn’t pull away or ask for anything back.
That almost undoes me more than the words did.
His thumb strokes once along my jaw, gentle. Sure. Giving me an exit.
I hate how badly I want to take it.
I hate more that I don’t.
Something in my chest loosens anyway—the part of me that stays braced, that’s always waiting for the catch.
Not because I’m ready.
Because he’s not making me earn softness by saying the right thing back.
The water runs over us. I stay where I am. Then I slowly kiss his neck, moving down his body, running my tongue along his pecs, over his nipple, and then down his stomach. I glance up at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I slip my fingers around his erection and drop to my knees.
Gripping his thigh, I let my thumb slide inward, watching his arousal twitch, seeking out my touch. I start kissing up his leg, over the V in his hips and his stomach, letting my cheek graze over his length.
The tile is hard under me, water streaming over my shoulders, and I look up at him as I give him a teasing kiss. He’s thick and hot, the skin smooth, and I lean forward to lick a long stripe up the underside.
“Fuck, Liz.” He fists my wet hair, his legs spreading. “I want that mouth.”
I like this part too much—having power over a man built like him. The way he lets me see exactly how close he is to losing control. Slowly, I take him between my lips, sinking down as far as I can.
“Look at me,” he growls, his hand falling to my cheek as he watches me. I do, taking him deeper, the expression on his face raw, open, undone. This is Leo with his guard completely down. This is what trust looks like.
He tastes of salt and skin, and I hollow my cheeks, sucking slowly, letting my tongue work the sensitive head. Above me, his breath comes faster, his thighs tensing. His rapture only heightens my arousal. A thrumming sensation between my legs pulses up into my stomach as I bring him deeper, gripping his length and pumping.
“Liz.” His voice is strained. “I’m not coming in your mouth.”
I pull back, smiling. “No?”
Tugging my hair gently, he urges me to stand. “I want to come inside you.”
He turns me toward the tile and presses in behind me, biting down on my neck. The water beats against my back, his arousal hard against me. His palm slides around my hip, down between my thighs, and I whimper when his fingers find my clit.
“So ready,” he murmurs against my ear, and I hate how much I love hearing him know my body this well. He circles my clit slowly, maddeningly, while his other hand comes up to pinch my nipple. I’m trembling now, hips rocking, desperate for more.
“Please.” The word comes out breathy, needy.
He reaches past the shower door, fumbling in the cabinet, and I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. A moment later, he presses against my back, teasing.
“Hands on the wall.”
I obey, arching my back. He drags his mouth over my shoulder, along my shoulder blade. Slowly, he positions himselfat my entrance, then eases inside me—one slow thrust that fills me in the best way possible. I gasp, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness he gives me.
“Okay?” His voice is tight.
“Yes. More.”
He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that’s deep and relentless. The wet sounds of our bodies meeting echo off the tile, mixing with the spray of the shower. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring me in place as he fucks me.
I’m panting, my body shaking from how turned on I am. He leans forward, bringing one of his hands to my chest, and starts playing with my nipple. Kissing my shoulder and neck, his teeth biting down on me while he sucks. I know this will leave a mark that I will need to cover tomorrow, but I don’t care. I want him marking me.
“God, you feel—” He cuts off, groaning. His pace quickens.
My forearms rest against the tile wall, anchoring me, as I push back to meet him, wanting more, wanting everything. The angle shifts, and suddenly he’s hitting that spot inside me, and I’m seeing stars. My moans bounce off the walls, shameless and desperate.
