Page 56 of Almost Yours
Her fingers slide up the back of my neck, nails dragging just enough to spark heat straight down my spine, and I swear I forget every reason I ever thought we’d never get here.
The sound she makes when my mouth finds hers again is a new kind of addiction. It’s soft, but it hits deep. Her body arches, legs tangling with mine, hands greedy as they splay across my shoulders. I want to memorize every inch of her, every freckle and scar, every place that makes her gasp or tremble. I want to erase every second I spent pretending this wasn’t what I’d been starving for my whole damn life.
But as much as I want to take my time, there’s this darker pull that wants to flip her over, press her down, and make her realize exactly how much I’ve been holding back.
I swallow it down, kiss along her jaw and down her throat, careful not to rush. “Is this okay?”
She nods, breathless. “Don’t stop.”
Yeah, that doesn’t help.
I exhale a quiet curse against her skin and keep going. I kiss her everywhere. The corner of her mouth, the hollow beneath her ear. Everywhere I touch, she reacts, and I file it all away, every hitch of breath, every shift of her hips. My control is stretched thin over something that’s a hell of a lot stronger than restraint.
I drag myself back up to her mouth, but my hips betray me, pressing forward once before I can stop it.
She gasps and her eyes snap open. Then her legs hook around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me there like she wants more.
Jesus.
My grip tightens on the cushion beside her head, knuckles going white as I freeze for half a beat and shove the instinct to give in as far down as I can. If I let it take over, I’m not sure I’ll go slow anymore.
I’d ruin her if she asked me to. I’d give her everything right now, on the couch, with the dog snoring not five feet away, andthe taste of her mouth still fresh on my tongue. I want her. I want all of her. But I also want to do this right.
I settle my weight beside her and kiss her again, softer, slower. My hands slide up her arms, and I pull her against me, just holding her. Her breath is shaky, but she’s grinning and I can’t help but smile back.
She buries her face in my chest, her hands fisted tight in the fabric of my shirt. I keep her there, just holding her, brushing my thumb along the bare skin of her thigh where her dress has ridden up.
“Rowan,” she says, muffled against my shirt, “do you need?—”
“Shh,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. “Just let me hold you, yeah?”
Her soft curves press into all the places I’m trying really hard not to think about right now. Her leg hooks over mine like it’s second nature, andfuck. I want to be the man who holds her like this and doesn’t think about the way the strap of her dress slips just enough to reveal the slope of her shoulder and the soft swell of her tits.
I’m only so strong, and there’s nothing gentlemanly about the way I’m hard for her right now. Nothing chivalrous about the fact that the bulge in my jeans is pressing uncomfortably against the zipper, that I keep having to adjust how I’m lying just so I don’t lose my damn mind.
She deserves patience. She deserves intention. She deserves me showing her with every touch that this isn’t just want—it’sher.Always has been.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?”
She looks up at me with a lazy smile and wide, innocent emerald eyes that aren’t fooling anyone.“Me?”
God help me.
twenty-two
. . .
Violet
My pulse iseverywhere. It’s in my throat, in my fingertips, between my thighs. Heat is rolling off his body. Every inch of him is tension and restraint, and it only makes me want to unravel him more.
I tilt my head up and our eyes lock. His are darker now, heavy-lidded. His jaw is tight, too. My skin prickles with awareness as the air between us shifts. His hard length presses against my hip, and a bolt of heat twists low in my stomach. Every nerve in my body lights up, tuned only to him.
Something between a sigh and a whimper escapes me as I press my thighs together. I’m flushed everywhere. My skin feels too tight. I want his hands on me,moreof him, even as my chest rises with nerves. I want him, but that guarded part of me needs time.
I shift against him, just…easing the pressure. A breath hitches in his throat, and his grip at my waist flexes.
“Violet…” he groans.
