Page 48 of Sworn to Protect

“You ready to go home?” His tone is careful. Measured. Like he’s giving me an out.

But I don’t want an out.

Before I talk myself out of it, I make a choice. No second guessing. Tonight, I don’t want to think. I just want todo.

I let my guard drop and speak the only truth that matters tonight. “I’m ready to be alone with you.”

His breath stills. For a split second, his grip on me tightens just enough to tell me that he’s barely holding himself back. That whatever restraint he’s got left is hanging by a thread.

His jaw flexes. “You sure?”

I exhale. Steady. Certain. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and ready to jump.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” I meet his gaze head-on. Daring him.

Daring him to stop resisting.

“Take me home, Nate.”

For one heartbeat, he stays still, like he’s weighing the consequences, like he’s fighting not to take me right here in the middle of the dance floor.

Then, something shifts in his dark eyes. Something primal and possessive that makes my stomach flip.

His fingers slide from my waist, trailing down to capture my hand. He laces our fingers together, his hold firm and unyielding. The air is thick with something dark and thrilling, and I wonder if we’re about to cross a line neither of us can come back from.

Without another word, he leads me out the door as if he’s already thinking about how he’s going to fuck me senseless the second we’re alone.

And I follow.

Because tonight, I’m not just ready.

I’m fucking his.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MACKENZIE

My back slamsagainst Nate’s door with a force that rattles the hinges, and before I can even gasp, his body is pressed into mine like he’s trying to fuse us together. His fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my throat as his mouth crashes down on mine. This isn’t some soft, tentative kiss. No, this is a fuckinginvasion.His tongue is demanding, claiming, devouring me like I’m the last meal on Earth. And I’m starving for it. Fuck, I’m so goddamn starved for him.

I fear what this might mean.

But I can’t resist.

I fist the sides of his shirt, tearing at the fabric like it’s personally offended me. I need it off. I need his skin against mine, need to feel every ridge of muscle, every last inch of him. But Nate’s not making it easy. His hands roam down my sides and settle on my waist with a grip so tight it borders on possessive. He presses his body into mine, and I feel it—the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, grinding into the apex of my thighs. A shiver rips through me, and I subconsciously rock my hips into him, desperate for friction.

His lips break away from mine, and I swear to God, if he stops now, I’ll kill him. But no—his mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitiveskin as he growls into my ear, “Tell me you want this.” His voice is rough, raw, primal, and it sends a surge of wet heat straight to my core. That delicious ache between my thighs builds. If there were any doubts that I wanted this, wanted him, that statement alone annihilated any fears.

I not only want him, but I need him. It’s been so long since a man looked at me like this. As if I’m the answer to a question he didn’t know he asked. It’s the lifeline I’ve been seeking, and I don’t even try to hold back.

“I want you,” the words spill forth without hesitation, fueled by the craving that defies reason. “I want you so fucking bad, Nate. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, and just like that, I’m airborne. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward the bed. My hands are everywhere—tugging at his shirt, clawing at his back, desperate to feel him. His shirt hits the floor, andholy fuck. His chest is a fucking masterpiece: broad, chiseled, with a dusting of dark hair that leads down to the waistband of his jeans. I reach for his belt, but he’s faster, yanking my jeans down my thighs in one swift motion.

“Fuck these jeans,” he mutters, tossing them aside. His hands are on my thighs now, spreading them wide as he settles between my legs. His eyes lock on mine, dark with hunger, and I’m shaking with anticipation. He doesn’t waste time—his fingers slide down my stomach, through the slick mess of my pussy, and I gasp as he plunges two fingers inside me.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” he growls, curling his fingers in a way that has me seeing stars. My back arches off the bed, and I’m already so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. But Nate doesn’t let me fall. Not yet. He pulls his fingers out, and before I can protest, he buries his face between my thighs.

His tongue is relentless, circling my clit, flicking it, sucking it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. I’m trembling, moaning, clawing at the sheets as he works me over with a skill that makes me wonder how many women he’s done this to. But fuck if I care rightnow. All I care about is the way he’s making me feel—like I’m unraveling, coming apart under his touch.

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