Page 147 of What We Brave
She's soaked. Fucking dripping. Her wetness coats my fingers and my brain goes dark. Every thought I've ever had. Every wall I built. Every promise to be patient, every reason I've been holding back. Gone. Wiped clean. There's nothing left except her. The heat of her. The slick slide of her against my fingers. The way her breath hitches when I press against her.
"I want you," she whispers. "Have wanted you. For so long." Her hand tightens over mine, pressing my palm against her. "I don't want to wait."
I've waited my whole life for this. For her. For someone who'd see every broken, ugly, fucked-up piece of me and still stand here naked in my bedroom saying I want you.
I snap.
I grab her. Both hands on her waist, lifting her, spinning us. She gasps as her back hits the mattress, and then I'm over her, covering her with my body, my mouth finding hers.
The kiss is desperate. Not an ounce of fucking finesse. All teeth and need and the sound she makes when I bite her bottom lip—this broken little whimper that I feel in my spine, makes me groan.
Her hands are in my hair. Pulling. Scratching. Her legs wrap around my waist and she arches up against me and I'm so hard it hurts. I've been hard for hours. For days. For months.
"Blake—"
"Tell me to stop." I drag my mouth down her throat. Bite the spot where her pulse is hammering. "You fucking own me, baby. Tell me to slow down and I will. But you have to tell me. Because I can't—I don't?—"
"Don't stop." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Don't you dare stop."
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BLAKE
Ikiss her like I'm dying.
Like she's the only air left in the room and I've been holding my breath for months. Years. My whole fucking life.
Her mouth opens under mine and I lick into her, tasting coffee and something sweet—jam from her toast. Underneath it,her. That taste I've been dreaming about since that day at the camp. I dreamed of her. Of taking more.
This time she's giving it. This time shewantsme.
The thought makes me groan into her mouth.
"Blake." She's panting. Fingers scrambling at my waistband. "Off. Take these off."
I rear back just long enough to shove my sweats down. Kick them somewhere. Don't care where.
When I settle back over her, skin to skin, we both make sounds that aren't quite human.
Fuck.She's so soft. So warm. Every inch of her pressed against every inch of me and it's not enough. Will never be enough.
I drag my mouth down her throat. Her collarbone. Find the mark I left yesterday and bite down on it again, refreshing it, making it darker. She cries out and her hips buck up against me.
"Mine." The word rips out of me before I can stop it. Didn't plan to say that. Don't care. "This mark.Mine."
"Yes—" Her voice is wrecked. "Yours. Love,yours."
I move lower. Find the marks Reid left on her breast. Something dark and possessive curls in my chest—not jealousy. Something that likes seeing his claim on her skin right next to mine.
I add my own mark beside his. Suck hard enough to bruise. She arches off the bed with a sound that goes straight to my cock.
"Dreamed about this." I'm mumbling against her skin, barely coherent. Words falling out of me that I can't catch. "About you. Every night. Couldn't stop."
"Blake—"
"Touched myself thinking about you." I bite the soft underside of her breast. She whimpers. "Hated myself for it. But I couldn't—you were in my head. In my fucking blood."
Her hand finds my hair. Grips hard. Pulls my face up to hers.
