Page 45 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

“Jesus,” he says, voice cracking as I press a kiss to the place I bit.

I step back, just enough to grab the hem of my dress and pull it over my head.

Blake stops breathing. Fully, entirely, again. His hands hover like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Like I haven’t already offered him a guided tour of my thighs and ruined any pretense of innocence.

I take one of his wrists and bring it to my waist. “Blake,” I say, raspy. “I’m not a bomb. You won’t break me.”

“But you,” he swallows hard. “You mean something.”

That’s the moment I almost lose it. Because it’s not just lust. It’s not just adrenaline or the high of making the first move. He means this. He means me. And suddenly I’m not just fighting off my own chaos. I’m trying not to cry while half-naked in front of the sweetest man alive.

I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re allowed to want me,” I whisper. “You already have me.”

His arms go around me like they were always meant to. Like they’ve been waiting.

And when he lays me back on the bed, hands worshipful but hungry, I don’t feel scared.

I feel chosen.

Chapter Sixteen

Blake

She’s standing there in nothing but a pair of tiny little panties and I’m supposed to what? Function? Speak English? Solve math?

I can’t stop staring. I think my jaw might actually be hanging open. There are entire sermons I could give on the curve of her waist, the slope of her tits, the way her nipples tighten like they know I’m looking.

Jesus. Fuck. Jesus.

And then she says, “You’re allowed to want me. You already have me.”

My body moves before my brain catches up, hands on her waist, mouth on hers, desperate. I kiss her like I’ve been starving. Because I have. For this. For her. For the chance to touch her without holding back.

I walk her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed, and she lets herself fall back with this soft laugh that makes my knees damn near buckle.

And then I drop to mine.

She stares down at me.

“I need to taste you.” My voice is hoarse. Almost ashamed of how badly I mean it. “Please. I’ve thought about it so many times I’m not even sure it’s real until I do it.”

She goes still. Lips parted. And then she nods and spreads her legs for me like she’s giving me the fucking moon.

I press kisses to her thighs first. I want to take my time. I want to learn every twitch and gasp. She smells like skin andheat and something sweet. Her panties are soaked and when I kiss over them, she jerks.

“Blake,” she breathes.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

Yes ma’am.

I hook my fingers in the waistband and drag them down slow, watching the way the fabric peels away from her, revealing slick skin and flushed lips and, fuck me, she’s so wet.

I flatten my tongue against her and her whole body jumps. She fists the sheets and moans like she’s never been touched there before. I want to make her forget every other name but mine.

I lick her again and then focus on her clit, circling with the tip of my tongue while I slide one hand under her thigh and the other to her entrance. She gasps when I push a finger inside.

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