Page 37 of Caught from Behind

My heart rolls over in my chest.

If it came from anyone else, I wouldn’t take that as a compliment.

I’d be searching for something hidden and underhanded and cutting within those words, some insult I should deduce.

But…that’s not Ella.

It’s why I’ve been borderline obsessed with her from the first time Knox introduced us.

Beautiful. Bright. Guileless.

Everything that’s been absent in my life over the last few years.

And I’ve been a fly to the proverbial honey ever since.

Ready and willing to be ensnared in the sweet, sticky substance of her.

I lift a shoulder, still desperate to focus. “I am who I am.”

“No,” she murmurs. “You’re more.”

My heart goes again, but before I can react, she does what she always does.

Keeps me on my toes.

Pivoting the conversation so quickly that my head spins?—

“Am I going to finally get to see what you’re packing?” she teases, one hand still on my jaw, her touch still gentle. But her other’s moving now, swirling a fingertip in the damp bead of precum that’s seeped from my dick, spreading it over the head of my cock, instantly arrowing in on and stroking the most sensitive spot, finding it like it’s her superpower.

My dick convulses, pleasure exploding through me. I grind my teeth together so fiercely that a bolt of pain shoots through my jaw. Christ. I’m going to have to be careful, if only because this is going to go very fast unless I get myself under control.

“I’d rather become familiar with what you’re packing,” I murmur, reaching down and tugging her hand from my jeans, pressing a kiss to her palm and lifting it over her head.

“I’m not packing any?—”

I drop my mouth to hers, taking advantage of her parted lips to kiss her exactly as I’ve wanted to since the moment I got my first taste of her in my car.

Deep and wet and with lots and lots of tongue.

I could keep kissing her for an eternity, and maybe I do, but eventually she plants a hand in the middle of my chest and shoves me back.

“Air,” she gasps.

“Fuck that,” I say, taking her mouth on another drugging kiss. “Fuck oxygen. I can survive on you.”

Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, reddened from my beard. “Riggs,” she moans softly.

Fuck. I want to kiss her all over, spread that flush along her body, piece by piece.

And I can.

She’s here.

She wants me.

Another bolt of desire blasts through me, threatening to undo my control, but I focus enough to coax her fingers around one of the wooden slats of the headboard, repeating the same with her other hand, pressing down lightly so she understands, even if the words don’t process. “Don’t let go, chérie.”

She shivers, cheeks flushed, eyes half mast, upper body arched, those lush breasts of hers pushing against the tee she’d slept in.

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