Page 195 of Glass Jawed
Then he smiles. Slow.
“One day,” he says, “I’m going to make love to you as mywife.”
My heart stutters.
“Andthatday is exactly one year from today, got it?”
My eyes widen. “No. No, no—absolutely not—”
He has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Relax. This isn’t the proposal.”
I blink.
“It’s a warning,” he adds with a smug smile. “The proposal’s coming, sweetheart.”
I laugh—half scandalized, half giddy—just as his hands finally settle on my waist. Then lower. Palming my ass.
His lips trail my neck, making me shiver all over.
“Our moms already picked the date, baby,” he mutters against my skin.
Before I can ask him to stop talking about our mothers, his hand slides down, fingers dipping between my legs.
He groans when he finds how ready I am.
I gasp as his mouth claims mine again—this time deeper, darker, moredesperate.
And just like that, I’m suddenly scooped up—bridal style.
His grip is strong, steady. Like I weigh nothing. Like I’m something precious.
He doesn’t stop until we’re in my bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. His sweater comes off in one fluid motion, followed by his jeans. He’s already hard.
Lucian pauses, kneeling on the mattress beside me, just staring.
“My God, Rohi,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He touches me reverently—palms gliding from my collarbone to my hipbone, like he’s memorizing the dips and hollows.
“You know what I thought on the first night we made love?” he asks, lowering to kiss the spot just below my ear.
“Hmm?” I hum, breath hitching as his lips trail down my neck.
“That if I could just get you to look at me like I mattered... that would be enough.”
He kisses my shoulder. My collarbone. “Now you look at me like I’m everything. And baby... I’mnevertaking that for granted.”
I smile through a gasp. “You’re really monologuing right now?”
He chuckles against my skin. “Shut up and let me worship you in peace.”
I drag him closer by the waistband of his boxers. “Fine. Proceed.”
He slips them off, kissing my hip as he does. Then he runs his hands along my thighs, parting them slowly. “These legs?” hesays, his voice reverent. “I dream of them wrapped around my face.”
“They’re perfect,” he says, kissing the inside of my knee. “And they’remine.”
When he lowers his mouth to my pussy, I nearly come undone. His tongue is slow, skilled, purposeful. I moan his name, hips arching.
