Page 61 of On Your Knees

Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there, lost in the heat of him, the way our bodies moved together like they were made for each other. I can’t stop thinking about it.About him. It’s like he’s imprinted on me, and no amount of distraction can shake the memory.

And now, here we are, getting ready to head to the club for another night of work. I don’t want to go. If I had it my way, we’d stay here, wrapped up in each other’s arms for the rest of the evening, hell, for the rest of forever. But duty calls, and the real world waits for no one, not even for us. I let out a small sigh,trying to push aside the ache of wanting him again, even though he’s just in the next room.

Standing in front of the mirror, I adjust the wig on my head, tugging it slightly to make sure it’s situated just right. The short black strands fall perfectly, framing my face, concealing my real hair beneath. I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. The disguise is necessary, I remind myself. But it doesn’t make it any less strange to see myself like this, like someone else entirely, hiding in plain sight.

As I apply a final touch of lipstick, my mind drifts back to Benedict. I can’t help it. The way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, sends shivers down my spine. It’s more than just the sex. There’s a connection between us, something raw and undeniable, something that scares me and excites me all at once.

I hear his footsteps behind me, and the air seems to thicken with his presence. Even without looking, I know it’s him. I feel him. His eyes on me, the heat of his gaze burning into my back, I know he’s there. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my body betrays me. The familiar tingle of anticipation starts low in my belly, spreading through me like wildfire.

“Almost ready?” His voice is low, a rough edge to it that sends a thrill straight through me.

I glance at him in the mirror, catching his reflection as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a black suit, and damn if he doesn’t look good in it. There’s an intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes me want to close the distance between us and kiss him senseless right here, right now.

“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice sounding breathier than I intended. “Just finishing up.”

He pushes off the doorframe, taking a few slow steps toward me. The tension between us is electric, and my pulse quickens with every inch he closes. “You sure about that?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a dark hunger in his eyes that I recognize all too well.

I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the edge of the counter as he comes to stand behind me. He doesn’t touch me, not yet, but the heat of him is overwhelming, and I have to fight the urge to lean back into him, to give in to the pull that’s always there between us.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for you,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

A slow smile curves his lips, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin of my arm. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my neck. “Because I don’t think I can ever get enough of you, either.”

I shiver at his words, my heart pounding in my chest. God, why does he have this effect on me? Just his touch, his voice, and I’m melting, completely undone. I turn my head slightly, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and the intensity of it takes my breath away.

“Benedict…” I start, but whatever I was going to say fades into nothing as he leans down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to my neck.

“We should go,” I manage to say, my voice shaky as his lips trail along my skin. But even as I say the words, I know neither of us really wants to leave. Not yet. Not when the air between us is crackling with this kind of tension.

His hands slide to my waist, pulling me back against him, and I can feel every hard line of his body against mine. “We can be a little late,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear, and my resolve weakens.

I close my eyes, feeling the heat of his body radiating through me as I press my ass back against him. The hard ridge of his arousal meets my curves, and a surge of pleasure shoots straight to my core. His low, guttural growl vibrates against my ear, and it’s like tossing a match into dry tinder. Every inch of me responds, tightening, aching with the need for him.

His hands grip my hips, firm but gentle, guiding my movements as I grind against him, and I can feel just how much he’s holding back. His restraint is tantalizing, making me want him even more. “Don’t stop,” I moan, my voice breathless, desperate for more.

“Don’t plan on it,” he whispers, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of my neck. His voice is a rough promise, dark and hungry, and it sends shivers down my spine. I can feel the pulse of his desire in every word, and it matches my own heartbeat, erratic and needy.

He pushes the hair of my wig aside with a smooth motion, exposing the delicate skin beneath. His lips follow the path of his fingers, peppering slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of my neck. Each kiss is like a spark, igniting a fire in me that I can’t control. My skin is on fire, and every point of contact sends a new wave of heat coursing through my veins.

I arch my neck, giving him more access, my body craving every touch, every kiss. The tension between us is electric and the air in the room feels thick with it. His lips linger on a particularly sensitive spot, and I can’t help the soft whimper that escapes me.

“God, you feel so good,” I murmur, turning around to face him as my hands slide up to his forearms.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls against my neck, his voice low and full of restrained need. His hands slide up my sides, fingers brushing lightly over my waist, sending goosebumps scattering across my skin.

The heat between us is unbearable. My entire body feels like it’s humming, on the verge of combusting. My mind is consumed with thoughts of him—of us—wrapped up in this intoxicating moment. I’m so turned on, the ache between my thighs growing more insistent by the second. The way he touches me, the way he claims me with every kiss, is driving me wild.

I can feel his lips curve into a smug smile against my skin as his hands slide down, skimming over my hips before slipping beneath the hem of my blouse. His fingers splay across my stomach, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “You’re so damn sexy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

The way his body molds to mine, how every inch of him feels like it was made to fit against me, it’s overwhelming. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want this feeling to ever end.

It’s as if he’s on the same page. He moves his hands under my blouse, sliding over the lace of my bra. “I need to be inside you, Eva. I have to feel you.”

I nod, my eyes meeting his hungry ones. “Yes,” is all I say. Yes to all his questions. Yes to everything, because I want everything with this man.

He nudges me against the counter of my bathroom, his hands sliding underneath the cups of my bra so he can massage both breasts in his hands. He toys with the nipples, his mouthdragging kisses over my neck. “You’ve got me so fucking hard, Eva. Now that I’ve had you, I’ll never be able to stop.”

I know he’s just caught up in the moment, but does he mean it? What about his calling? What about his faith?

---