Page 74 of Text Me, Take Me

Sitting up, I nibble on my lip, looking at the door. Perhaps there’s one way to prove I’m in charge… or maybe that’s my neediness tricking my mind into doing what I desperately want.

“Stay here, boy,” I whisper.

Meatball huffs and rolls onto his back like he’s saying,You don’t need to tell me twice.

I walk through the estate, heading toward the master bedroom.

I don’t knock. I step into his room without hesitation, because I don’t need to be uncertain anymore. Not with him, not when the lights go out. The door clicks shut softly behind me, sealing us off from the rest of the world.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands loose, almost relaxed but with a quiet tension humming beneath the surface. His head tilts just the slightest, as if caught somewhere between waiting and something more. Something dangerous, magnetic.

When his eyes lift to meet mine, they’re already burning, smoldering embers behind a calm facade.

We’re past the point of pretending either of us can fight what’s pulling us in.

Tonight, I don’t want to fight it. I want to lead it.

Our gazes lock. For a long moment, silence hangs between us. My heart beats hard. His hunger is written in every line of his body: the tightness of his jaw, the slight shake of his breath, the way his eyes drop slowly to my mouth and linger with raw, starving intention.

“You waiting for something?” I ask softly, voice low, teasing just enough to unsettle him. He’s probably wondering if this means I’m staying, like I said I would… but he knew better than to take my words for a promise.

He’s giving me leeway, giving me control. And I’m going to use it.

“It’s like my father said. I’ve been waiting a long time, Keepsake–for you, only you.”

I cross the room deliberately, each step slow, controlled, letting him watch the sway of my hips, letting him feel the rope of anticipation coil tighter around us. The air is heavy with it, electric.

When I reach him, I slide into his lap. My hands find his face gently, thumbs brushing his cheekbones with deliberate care.

“I want tonight to be different,” I murmur, voice barely more than a breath. “No pushing. No games. Just… us.”

He nods once, slow and sure. “Tell me what to do.”

I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Then a gentle kiss to his cheek, then finally, his mouth. He groans quietly as he sinks into it, hands resting on the bed, restrained but desperate.

“Touch me,” I whisper, guiding his palms down to my waist. “But let me set the pace.”

His grip is tentative, thumbs brushing beneath the hem of my tank top, fingertips warming my skin. Slowly, I slide the tank top over my head, letting it fall to the floor. The way his eyes darken when he sees I’m bare beneath it… heck, it’s like he’s worshipping me. His hands tremble where they rest, and I feel it like a spark, an ache blooming deep between my legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans.

I smile, bending to kiss him again. “You’ll get to show me how much you mean that.”

I ease him backward, lowering him onto the pillows with care, then climb over him, straddling his hips. His cock presses against me–thick, hot, already fully hard beneath his sweatpants–and it sends fresh heat rippling through me. I grinddown just enough to tease, and his head falls back with a hiss of breath.

I lean in close, kissing the side of his neck, tracing the nighttime stubble with my lips. “You okay, letting me take this where I want?”

His voice is rough, husky with need. “You can take me anywhere. Just don’t stop.”

That makes me smile. He might as well say,Just don’t leave. I can’t leave, I realize now, with the lights out, when it’s just us. It’s an impulse that will always be there:run, hide, get away. But with my Warden, it settles.

I sit up slightly and reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging them down slowly, savoring the slow reveal. His cock springs free, flushed and glistening with desire, and I drink him in. To see how hard he is, how much he wants me. All of me.

“I used to think,” I say, wrapping my fingers around his shaft, slow and steady. “I’d never want anyone to see me like this. Not really. Not all of me.”

He groans, a sound torn between frustration and need. I stroke him, teasing, coaxing. “Evie…”

“But you see everything, don’t you?” I murmur, leaning down, brushing my lips against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath my mouth. “And you still want me.”

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