Page 218 of Red Zone
“Beautiful,” he mutters against my skin, his lips hot as he trails down to my chest, giving equal attention to both of my nipples.
He takes his time exploring every inch of me with his hands and mouth, his fingers tracing the lines of my ribs and my hips, as though he needs to memorize everything.
“Lay back,” he commands softly.
I do, sinking into the cushions as his hands slip under the waistband of my panties, dragging them down slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
He stops for a moment, his eyes raking over me like he can’t quite believe I’m real.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers hoarsely. “You don’t even know.”
I feel my cheeks heat, my chest tight with love.
And then his mouth is on me.
I gasp, my fingers sliding into his hair as his tongue works me open, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place as he takes his time working me over with his tongue and very skilled fingers.
He doesn’t stop when my thighs start to shake, doesn’t stop when I cry out his name, doesn’t stop until I fall apart completely, my back arching off the couch.
When I collapse against the cushions, he presses one last kiss to my thigh before pulling back, his hands already unbuttoning his shirt.
I watch through half-lidded eyes as he sheds the rest of his clothes, revealing the strong, lean body I’ve missed during our time apart.
He tears a foil packet from his wallet, rolling it on before settling over me, his weight and warmth surrounding me completely.
One hand cups my cheek, his forehead resting against mine as he pauses.
“You good?” he murmurs, his voice gentler now, though his eyes still burn with hunger.
I nod, my hands curling around his shoulders.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Something shifts in his expression then, a rawness flashing across his face before he kisses me, like the words undid him completely.
“I love you too, Princess,” he breathes against my lips as he pushes inside me.
The stretch is slow, steady, filling me completely, and I can’t help the soft cry that escapes my throat.
He groans low, his grip on my hip tightening as he starts to move—deep and deliberate at first, then harder, rougher, like he can’t hold back anymore.
My fingers dig into his back, my legs wrapping around him as his name falls from my lips again and again.
His mouth finds my neck, then my shoulder, then my lips again, murmuring my name between every kiss, every thrust, like he’s trying to brand me with it.
He presses his forehead into the crook of my neck, his breath hot and uneven as he whispers against my skin, “Mine.”
Over and over.
And when I fall apart beneath him again, his pace stutters, arms tightening around me as he follows, groaning my name into my neck as he spills into the condom.
We stay like that for a long time—tangled together, our bodies slick and trembling, the air between us heavy with everything we finally said tonight.
He rolls to his side eventually, pulling me with him, his hand stroking lazily down my spine as I bury my face in his chest.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice lower now, soft and possessive all at once.
I nod into his skin, my fingers tracing a faint scar on his shoulder.
