Page 93 of Racing for Redemption
“Usually, I last longer than a teenager at his first dance.” He kisses me softly, then with more intent. “But don’t worry. I’m just getting started.”
I believe him. This tension, this hunger—it’s nowhere near resolved. One night might not be enough to get him out of my system.
William’s face softens as he looks at me, his eyes filled with something beyond just satisfied desire. The tight control he normally keeps slips away, revealing a softness I haven’t seen before. He reaches up to trace my jawline, and I realize he’s not just looking at me—he’s memorizing me.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice raw. “So fucking beautiful. Inside and out.”
I should feel embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, but instead, I feel powerful. Seen. Cared for. His boxers are ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care, focusing entirely on me.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply, trying to maintain the light, casual tone this encounter is supposed to have.
He holds my sides and brings us chest to chest as he rests me on his lap. He embraces me, no longer sexual, but protective. His soft lips are on my neck, pressing feather-soft kisses along the column of my throat.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath and baritone voice doing things to me. “Wanted you. But not just like this.”
“What do you mean?” My voice catches as he slides his hands up to my bra clasp.
“I mean”—he unclasps it with a practiced flick of his fingers—“that I want to take my time with you. Not just get off as quick as I can. I only allow quickness on track.”
My bra loosens, and he slides the straps down my arms. The cool air hits my exposed skin, sending goosebumps racing across my flesh. William’s breath catches.
“Perfect,” he breathes, drinking me in. There’s nothing clinical or assessing in his gaze—only wonder and hunger. “You leave me breathless, Violet.”
Before I can respond, he pulls me into a tight hug, my bare chest pressed against his. The contact sends electricity cracklingbetween us. His tattoos seem to embrace me, the dark ink a beautiful contrast against my skin. I feel claimed, marked, though he’s barely touched me.
I nuzzle my face into his neck, breathing in his scent—clean sweat, a hint of cologne, and something uniquely him. The moment feels more intimate than what we just did, more vulnerable. I pull back, unsure how to process the emotions swirling through me.No strings attached, Violet. Don't bring unnecessary emotions to this encounter.
His gaze finds mine, questioning. I answer by kissing him, hard, trying to steer us back to simple, physical desire. He moves his hands down to my suit trousers, fingers working at the intricate belt.
“Can I take these off?” he asks, voice rough with want but seeking permission.
“I only do exchanges, so…" I point at his jeans. "Those come off and mine come as well.”
The playful challenge makes him grin, that addictive energy breaking through his intensity like a golden retriever excited about getting a new treat if it behaves. He sets me aside gently and gets up from bed, stripping with an efficiency that makes me laugh.
“Eager much?”
“For the amazing woman in front of me? Always.” He’s naked now, gloriously so, every inch of him on display. His cock is already hardening again, rising under my appreciative gaze.
I rise more slowly, fingers working at my own fastenings. There’s power in making him wait, in watching his gaze track each newly revealed inch of skin. By the time I stand before him, completely nude, his breathing has quickened.
I’m not shy—never have been about my body. I know what I am; not model-thin, but curved in ways that make men look twice. And I'm proud of that. Despite spending a lot of time sitting during meetings, and fully aware I should exercise a bit, I love my body.
William is certainly looking, his focus traveling from my face to my breasts, down the soft curve of my stomach to the junction of my thighs.
“Come here,” he says, voice barely audible.
I step forward, and he pulls me against him, his hands soft on my lower back. The full-body contact sends a shock through me—skin on skin, his cock pressed against my thigh, his heart thundering against mine. We’re both panting, overwhelmed by the simple act of being naked together. Talk about being touch starved.
“I want to set the rhythm,” I tell him, needing to maintain some control over this rapidly deepening encounter.
His smile is soft, understanding. “You’re the boss, Violet.”
I push him gently, and he falls back onto the bed. I climb over him, straddling his thighs, feeling powerful and wanted as his eyes darken with desire.
“Wait,” he says suddenly. “Condom.”
He reaches for his discarded jeans, pulling his wallet from the pocket. I raise an eyebrow, surprised.
