Page 139 of The Fine Line
Her breathing turns to panting.
“Take them out,” I say gently. “Now just slide them up and down.”
Her thighs start to tremble. A soft whimper escapes her lips.
“Do you want more?”
She nods, desperate.
“Need my help?”
She blinks hard, her brows drawing together—then slowly, stubbornly shakes her head.
I lean in, my voice like silk. “Want my fingers, baby? Or maybe my tongue?”
“You can’t,” she breathes. “Not in the house.”
One side of my mouth quirks up. “Yeah?”
She nods.
And that’s all I need.
I rise in one swift motion, scooping her off the counter and tossing her over my shoulder.
“Rhett!” she yelps, clinging to my back as I stride out of the bathroom and through the kitchen.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demands as I snatch a blanket off the ladder.
“Getting the fuck out of this house.”
thirty-one
RHETT
I slide through the balcony door, not even bothering to close it behind me as I carry her through. The city hums down below, but here—nineteen floors up—it’s just her and me in the night.
I toss the blanket onto the couch, then lift her gently and lay her down on top of it..
My knees hit the ground, and I settle between her legs, looking up at her.
She watches me. Doesn’t move. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip like she’s trying to stop herself from saying something—or everything.
My gaze falls to her thighs. I run my hands up them before my fingers grip them—digging in, because it’s the only thing holding me back. I rock on my heels, looking up at her, a question in my eyes. The question.
She bites her lip hard. And then—just the slightest nod. It’s quiet. But it’s everything.
Permission.
I part her thighs and lower my mouth to her—tastingher like I’ve craved to for years. One slow swipe of my tongue and I’m gone.
“Fuck,” I breathe, dizzy. “I’ve thought about this since that goddamn plane ride.” I press another kiss to her, slower this time, more deliberate. “You taste like honey, Cub.”
She moans, and I shrug off my jacket, needing nothing between us. I dive back in, devouring her like I’m starving, like I might never get another chance. Her thighs tremble around my shoulders, her breathing ragged. When I glance up, she’s staring at me, wide-eyed.
“What is it?” I ask, panting.
“I just never saw myself in this situation,” she mutters, breathless, disarmed.
