Page 103 of Restless Hawke
What he did to me the other night flashes through my head. Where that very same thumb went and what he asked me that night. My response…
Everythingclenches in response to the memory.
He pulls back enough that I’m forced to release my grip on his cock and smacks the side of my thigh, his eyes dancing with the kind of wicked intent that matches the grin pulling at his lips. “Roll over.”
And like the love-sick, obsessed woman I apparently am, I comply without question, getting onto my knees and elbows.
I look back at where he stands at the edge of the bed, cock in his hand, ready to do unspeakable things to me, to sin in the kind of way only a man like Coen Hawke can.
He steps forward until his hot skin brushes mine, then reaches around me with his free hand and wraps his forearm around my breasts, his warm lips skating across the back of my neck. His cock slips through my arousal, practically dripping from me at this point, then up over my ass, making me tense. “Do you still want me here, Allegra?”
Fuck.
I do.
I never thought I would want any man to go there, but I want him to take me.
I wanthimto be the one who finally does it.
I want to give him that, to give him me, for us to share the experience, for him to take mecompletely.
Trying to prepare myself mentally for what’s coming, I nod.
He releases my breasts to lift my chin up until my eyes meet his. “I need to hear you say it.”
God…
Coen needs the confirmation.
He needs to ensure I am one hundred percent on board with this, even though I already told him I wanted it the other night. Even though I’m naked and slick and quivering in his arms. He still wouldn’t even consider it if I said no.
This man…
Where the hell has he been my entire life?
I hold his gaze, unable to look away due to his grip on my chin. “Y-yes.”
One of his dark brows rises. “Yes, what?”
Oh, God, he’s going to make me say the words…
All the years of playing the game, of having to remain strong and unbreakable, of being forced to maintain an impenetrable veneer, battle against what my body tells me it wants.
And it wantsthat.
Even when my brain is telling me that it’s giving him too much when I should be keeping my cards close to my chest.
Too much power.
Too much control.
Too much. Too much. Too much.
But as hard as my mind may be working to convince me otherwise, I know it isn’t too much.
Not with him.
With him, it’sright.
