Page 46 of The Breakup Broker

She nodded, a shiver passing through her as I unbuttoned her blouse. Each new inch of skin revealed was a revelation—the hollow of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, that perfect freckle that had haunted my dreams for five years.

“You kept me awake at night,” I confessed, pressing my lips to that beloved mark. “Wondering if you still tasted the same.” My tongue traced the spot, drawing a gasp from her lips. “If you’d still make that sound when I...”

Her back arched as I found that sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder, the one that drove her wild.

"Henry," she breathed, her fingers digging into my arms.

I stepped forward, guiding her backward until her calves met the edge of her bed. She sank down onto the mattress, drawing me with her, our bodiesfinding that familiar dance even after all these years. The springs creaked softly as I followed her down, bracing myself above her. Her hair fanned out across the pale sheets like spilled ink in the moonlight, and for a moment, I could barely breathe at the sight of her.

She was laid out before me in the moonlight, more beautiful than I remembered, with all soft curves and subtle strength. Every inch of her skin called to me, begging to be touched, explored, remembered all over again.

"You're staring," she whispered, a touch of self-consciousness in her voice.

“Can’t help it.” I traced the curve of her breast with reverent fingers. “You’re perfect.”

Her laugh caught on a moan as I replaced my fingers with my mouth. I remembered exactly how she liked to be touched—soft kisses trailing lower, teeth grazing enough to make her gasp. Her hands tangled in my hair as I worked my way down her body, tasting and teasing until she was writhing beneath me.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking on the word.

But I wasn’t done worshipping her yet. I wanted—needed—to drive her as crazy as she’d made me these past days. My tongue traced patterns on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted me, but not quite there.

“Henry,” she pleaded, her hips rising. “Don’t tease.”

The rest of her plea was lost in a gasp as I savored her, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had her unraveling beneath me.

I knew her body—remembered exactly how to touch her to make her come undone. But tonight, I wanted to take my time and make her feel everything I couldn’t say with words.

I brought her to the edge slowly, relentlessly, thenpulled back as she tensed. Her frustrated whimper made me smile against her thigh.

“You’re terrible,” she gasped, tugging at my hair.

“Just thorough,” I murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh. “We have five years to make up for.”

I started again, slower this time, alternating between soft licks and firmer pressure until she was arching off the bed. But before she could fall over the edge, I pulled back again.

“Henry,” she groaned, her voice hoarse with need. “Please...”

“Please, what?” I asked, my breath hot against her sensitive skin.

Her answer was lost in another moan as I resumed my attention, adding a finger, then two, curling them the way she used to love. Her thighs clenched around me, her breathing growing ragged.

This time, when she got close, I didn’t stop. I took her higher and higher until she shattered, crying out. The sound of it—raw and desperate—nearly broke my control.

I kissed my way back up her body as she caught her breath, savoring the salt of her skin and the way she shivered at each touch. When I reached her mouth, she pulled me into a deep kiss.

“My turn,” she whispered against my mouth, pushing me onto my back. Her hands traced down my chest, nails scraping lightly in a way that made me shudder. But when she tried to move lower, I caught her wrist.

“Not yet,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m not done with you.”

I rolled her beneath me again, capturing her protests with akiss. My hands found hers, pinning them gently above her head as I explored her neck, her breasts, and every inch of skin I could reach. She writhed against me, seeking friction, but I held back.

“You’re killing me,” she gasped as I lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between gentle and demanding touches until she was arching into my mouth.

“You feel incredible,” I murmured against her skin. “So perfect.” I released her hands to trail my fingers down her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath my touch. “I’ve dreamed about this. About making you fall apart again and again.”

When I slipped my fingers between her legs once more, she was desperate for release. I worked her slowly, deliberately, watching her face as she climbed higher. Before she peaked, I withdrew again.

“No,” she moaned, her eyes flying open. “Henry, please...”

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