Page 47 of He Knows When You're Awake
The words unravel me faster than any touch could. But not quite enough. I want to come. I need to come.
I arch beneath him, choking out something between a plea and a curse, my bound hands straining against his grip.
“Please.” The word cracks open something feral in him. His hips snap forward with renewed force as his thumb resumes its relentless pressure.
“What do you want?” he demands, voice ragged yet controlled.
“Y-you,” I stammer, my head falling back as he angles deeper, hitting a place that makes my toes curl. “Need—”
“Need what?” He punctuates each syllable with a thrust so brutal I cry out.
“To come!”
The demand explodes between us like lightning. The pressure unspools and then I’m gone, lost in a pleasure so sharp and bright it feels like breaking.
But Cole doesn’t stop.
He slows only to drag his fingers lower, gathering my slick and pressing teasing circles against the tight ring of muscle just below. I freeze. My breath catches.
“Relax,” he growls, his voice low and full of heat. “Let me in.”
His finger presses gently until it breaches me, slow and steady. I gasp at the stretch, the unfamiliar intrusion shocking and electric.
“You’re mine,” he says again, his words threading through the haze of overstimulation. “Mine to claim. Mine to punish. And if you ever try to run out on me again, it won’t be just my finger in your ass.”
A sound escapes me—half moan, half whimper—as he begins to move, his cock still thrusting while his finger matches the rhythm. The combination is too much. Perfect. Exquisite.
I shouldn’t like this. But fuck me—I do.
His other hand finds my clit and I’m spiraling again, wrecked and wrecking as he coaxes every last tremble from my body.
When I come this time, I shatter. Completely.
Cole groans into my neck and follows me over the edge, hips jerking, cock twitching deep inside me as he spills with a broken curse.
We collapse in a tangled, breathless heap on the floor. Raw. Spent. And I know I’ll never be the same.
Chapter EighteenCole
Control is everything until it isn’t.
I watch Sloane sleeping in my bed, her breath steady and deep in the early morning quiet. She’s curled into my sheets like she belongs there. No one has ever slept in my bed before—I’ve made sure of that, keeping this space as controlled and solitary as every other aspect of my life. But last night, when she tried to go to her room, I pulled her to mine.
I wasn’t ready to let her go.
Last night changed everything—the barrier between professional and personal collapsing with the first press of her body against mine. I’d planned for every aspect of her moving into the penthouse, designing the jewelry line, even the security protocols. But I hadn’t planned for this. The way she slipped past my defenses and made me want something I’d denied myself. Connection. Intimacy beyond the physical. A woman who challenges me in ways no one else dares. Now, watching her here, I realize I want her to stay.
The thought makes me uneasy.
My phone buzzes. Knox’s morning briefing details Julian’s latest move—an attempted break-in at one of my jewelry stores in Venice. Smart actually, as I know he’s seeing if the case with Claire’s designsis there. Classic Julian, testing the edges of my empire while playing this game of hide-and-seek.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her. The morning routine I’ve perfected over years feels different with her here—the silence less empty, weighted with her presence. I dress quickly, choosing a charcoal suit without having to think about it. Years of discipline have their uses.
In the kitchen, I start the coffee maker and call my usual bakery. They’re used to my precise orders, my exacting standards. Today those standards serve a different purpose.
Twenty minutes later, the smell of coffee and warm pastries fills the kitchen when Sloane pads in, wearing one of my shirts. She stops at the sight of almond croissants and coffee made exactly how she likes it.
“You did all this?” She leans against the doorframe, sleep-mussed and soft in a way that makes my chest tighten.
