Page 132 of Freed
So I tell him with my body instead.
I pull him closer. Take him deeper. Meet every thrust until his control starts to unravel.
His hand slides under my knee, pushing my leg higher, changing the angle until he hits a place that makes my whole body jolt.
“Oh,” I breathe.
His eyes sharpen. “There?”
I can’t answer.
He does it again.
My head falls back, pleasure gathering low and fast, coiling tight enough to hurt. He watches me like he’s starving for it, like every crack in my composure feeds something feral in him.
“Look at me,” he says.
I try. I really do. But then he rolls his hips just right, and I splinter, my body clamping around him as his name tears out of me.
He curses under his breath, hips grinding deep, holding me through it while I shake beneath him.
“That’s my good girl,” he says. “I missed watching you lose it for me.”
The praise ruins me all over again.
I’m still trembling when he kisses me, slower now, though his body is anything but calm. He’s shaking too. I can feel it in the tension of his arms, in the uneven push of his hips, in the way his mouth keeps finding mine like he can’t bear even an inch of distance.
“I missed you,” he says again.
This time, it’s quieter.
His rhythm turns uneven, desperate, his breath breaking against my cheek. I wrap myself around him and hold on, because there’s nothing else to do. Because he feels too good. Because this hurts in places that have nothing to do with my body.
“Say it,” he rasps.
I know what he wants but I know what it will cost me. So I give him the only truth I can survive.
“I missed this.”
His eyes flash. Then his mouth crashes into mine, and he lets go.
By the time we’re done, I’m breathless and tangled up in him, my head on his chest, his arm heavy around me. Neither of us speaks for a while.
Eventually, his fingers brush lightly over my shoulder. “Still going to sleep in here now that I’m back?”
I smile against his skin. “I’m considering it.”
“Mm.”
“You sound smug.”
“I am smug.”
I tilt my head up. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” he says, closing his hand over mine where it rests against him, “you’re in my bed again.”
I should argue but I don’t because his heartbeat is steady under my ear, and for tonight, that feels too much like peace to ruin.
