Page 87 of Past the Broken Bridges

You,I don’t say.I want you.

But I don’t say that because I don’t want to scare him the way I’m scaring myself for how much I actually like him.

So I say one word. “Please?”

I don’t even know what I’m begging for.

Relief, mostly.

But Banks doesn’t need me to clarify.

Somehow, he moves me up his body so he can get abetter grip on my butt, getting a handful and helping me use him to get off. I can feel it, the tingling sensation at the bottom of my spine. It’s so close yet so far away.

I chase the feeling until Banks moves so quickly that it steals my breath. Then I’m on my back with him hovering over me, using one arm to prop himself up while the other slowly trails down the side of my body, getting closer and closer to the place I want him most.

I’m incapable of putting together a coherent sentence, but I’d like to think my eyes say plenty. His hand stops at the waistband of the leggings I changed into yesterday, the knuckle of his index finger running back and forth in such a featherlight touch that it drives me insane.

“Please,” I whisper again, hoping that’ll be all he needs to make the next move.

He leans down, his lips barely grazing mine before his fingers move inside the elastic of my pants. My hips arch when I feel him graze me, his breath heavy on my lips when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties.

His teeth nip my bottom lip, tugging the same moment his knuckles press against my clit. It invokes a sound that I’ve never heard myself make before, and I feel him grow in his pants as he moves against me.

Deep down, maybe for the first time ever, I feel sexy. Desired. Confident. BecauseImade him feel that way.

He releases my lip, his mouth moving along my jawline before dipping into the crevice of my neck. “You don’t have to beg,” he says against me, peppering kisses along the column of my throat. “You never have to beg.”

Then I feel him gently coaxing me into opening my legs further as he teases me in all the right places. The next moment, I feel one of his fingers sliding inside me.

I let out a shaky breath, my thighs falling open as he works me with skilled hands. Not knowing what to do with my own, I grip his shoulders and soak up the sensations he’s pulling from me.

“I can tell how good this feels for you,” he says against me, his teeth nipping the sensitive spot of skin above my pulse. “How badly you wanted this. Were you thinking about this since the night we kissed?”

Oh God.If he expects an answer, he’s not going to get one. Not a coherent one anyway.

“That’s it,” he praises when he feels me clench around him. “Let go. I’ve got you, Birdie.”

I’ve got you.

Those three words do something to me that they’ve never done before, and paired with his dirty talk and the way he uses his fingers, I can’t help but give in when his knuckles rub against the bundle of nerves that creates chaos throughout my body.

Suddenly, my hips arch off the bed, his fingers going deeper as the pad of his thumb works me until I’m spasming around him.

Part of me wants to be embarrassed, but I can’t find the shame when the blissful, sated feeling eases my legs down until I’m lying against the bed again.

When reality creeps back in, I find myself meeting his eyes shyly. “Let me touch you,” I say, one of the hands that vice-gripped his shoulder moving down his chest.

But he stops me as I reach his belly button, his hand wrapping around my wrist. “As much as I want that, not today. This was about you.”

I blink, confusion curling my lips downward.

He releases my wrist and brings my hand up to his mouthto kiss the center of my palm. The kiss is so gentle, yet I feel it in my chest.

“There are some things I have to figure out,” he tells me, sitting up.

It’s hard to find my voice after what just occurred. “Like what?”

I see him subtly trying to readjust himself in his sweatpants, making me blush and look away.

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