Page 134 of Freed
“Because I’m in your bed?”
“Because you’re gripping me like you’ll die if I stop.”
Her eyes darken. For one second, neither of us breathes. Then she lifts her hips to meet mine, and my control frays so fast I almost curse. God, she knows exactly how to ruin me right back.
Her hands slide into my hair, tugging until my mouth is above hers. “Maybe I’m just using you.”
I thrust into her hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall.
Her gasp is sharp and perfect.
“Use me, then,” I say. “Use my hands. Use my mouth. My cock. Use every inch of me until you forget his name.”
Something vulnerable flickers across her face, so quick I almost miss it. Then she kisses me like she hates me for seeing it.
I take the kiss and give it back worse. Hotter. Messier. Mymouth claiming hers while my hips find a punishing rhythm, the kind that leaves no room for clever remarks or old ghosts or men who think they can walk into my city and take what I’ve already decided is mine.
Elizabeth wraps her legs around my waist, and I slide my hand between us, finding the place where we’re joined, and she tears her mouth from mine with a broken sound.
Her body trembles.
The wall cracks. Just a little.
So I touch her the way I know she likes. The way she pretends she doesn’t need. My fingers move in time with my hips, and her eyes go unfocused, all that polished control melting into something raw and unbearably honest.
“That’s it,” I say, my voice rough. “Let me see you.”
She shakes her head. Stubborn woman.
I kiss her throat. “Let me have this.”
“You have enough.”
I still inside her. Her eyes snap to mine. The room goes quiet except for our breathing.
I cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.
“No,” I say, softer now. “I don’t.”
Her expression shifts. The fight drains from her for one dangerous second, and what’s left nearly takes me apart.
“And who’s fault is that?” Then she whispers, “You don’t get to keep me just because you want me.”
I kiss her once, slow and brutal in its restraint.
“Then stay because you want me back.”
Her breath catches.
I start moving again before she can answer. Before either of us can ruin this with truth. But the rhythm is different now. Still desperate enough to make sweat gather at the base of my spine.
But there’s tenderness under it. Her hands slide down myback, less like claws now and more like she’s holding on. Her cheek presses to mine. Her breath comes hot against my ear.
“Lorenzo,” she whispers.
My name in her mouth is a match struck in a dark room, and I lose the rhythm for half a second. Her lips brush my temple, and the gesture is so gentle it almost destroys me.
“Don’t,” I mutter.
