“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Already wet for me.”

I moan, arching, my body aching for more.

His mouth trails down my stomach, then lower still, until—

“Tyler,” I gasp, trembling.

“Shh,” he soothes, voice rough with want. “I’m going to take care of you, Lila. Just relax.”

He starts with his tongue, warm and thorough, teasing me with long, slow licks that make my hips jerk, through every fold. His fingers grip my thighs, holding me still, spreading me wider. I feel utterly exposed—and yet safe. Worshiped. His mouth moves expertly, coaxing sounds from me I didn’t know I could make. Every swirl, every flick sends shocks through my core.

The first climax builds slowly, like a tide rolling in. I can’t stop it, can’t slow it. When it crests, I cry out, my back arching, thighs shaking. Tyler doesn’t stop. If anything, he presses deeper, mouth relentless and greedy, chasing the next wave.

“Tyler—” I pant, eyes fluttering. “Too much—”

“You can take it,” he whispers, lifting his mouth just long enough to murmur the words before plunging two fingers inside me, slow and deliberate.

I gasp, trembling. The stretch is just enough. He curves his fingers and I shatter again.

Heat rushes through me, sweat beading on my skin as he works me through it, never rushing, never pushing too hard. Just there, with me, worshiping me with his mouth and hands.

The third orgasm rolls through me like a quake. I scream his name, raw and open, my throat hoarse.

When I finally slump back against the bed, he withdraws carefully, crawling up my body and untying my wrists with care. He rubs the circulation back into them, kissing each one again.

I’m trembling. Floating. But so sated.

He gathers me into his arms, spooning me gently. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, kissing the back of my shoulder. “So responsive. So sweet.”

My heat hasn’t vanished—it’s just quiet now. Dormant. Banked embers instead of roaring flame.

“You didn’t need to—” I start, voice heavy with bliss.

“I wanted to,” he says, voice low. “You deserved that. All of it. Since you and I were just texting, I imagined doing this to you. And so much more.”

I close my eyes, letting his scent and promise of more wash over me, warm and grounding. And as I drift, nestled in his arms, I know he’s not just making my body feel good. He’s making me feel cherished.

And I’ve never needed that more.

Chapter forty-seven

Tyler

Lila’s breathing is slow now. Finally.

Her cheek rests against my chest, her thigh hooked loosely over mine. I can feel the heat rolling off her in slow, dreamy pulses—like the worst of it has passed, leaving a simmer instead of a blaze.

And gods help me, I love this.

Not the torment of her heat—though I’d gladly shoulder it for her—but this part. The after. The way she melts against me, trust written in every inch of her body. The way her fingers twitch in her sleep like she’s still dreaming about me. About us.

She smells like everything I’ve ever wanted. Salt and lightning and sweet omega want, and even now, with her body spent and quiet, the scent still clings to my skin like a brand.

I breathe it in. And I’m still hard.

It surprises me—not just the fact that I am, but how deeply I feel it. I’ve been with omegas before. I’ve taken care of them in heat. But I’ve never stayed hard after, never felt this need simmering beneath the surface, as if touching her once wasn’t enough to satisfy anything in me.

It’s not just physical. It’sher.