Page 144 of Boiling Point
“At your disposal,” I said, propping myself on one elbow.
She trailed her fingers down my chest. “You once told me you could rock my world in fourteen dimensions.” She bit her lower lip, her voice sultry. “I don’t doubt you, but I’m struggling to picture it.”
“Hate to flatten a fantasy, love, but I’m a wounded man. Cut me some slack,” I said, slipping my hand between her thighs. She was already wet, her breath catching with my touch. “Besides, you’d need a crash course in string theory to appreciate the full fourteen. And I’m far too impatient.” I grazed my thumb over her clit. “Let’s start with five.”
Her laugh was more gasp than sound. “I know the first three…”
“I’d have never allowed you into my course if you didn’t,” I said, working her with my fingers, relishing the flutter of her eyelids.
“Length, width, and?—”
I plunged a finger inside her. “Depth.”
She arched into my hand, desperate and defiant all at once. “And the fourth is…time?”
I kissed the hollow above her collarbone. “Very good.” Her pulse bounded under my tongue.
“And the fifth?” she whispered.
“A higher dimension acts on the one below it.” I grazed my teeth along her neck. “So let’s see if I can stop time.” I slid two fingers inside her—and she broke open.
She moaned—long, low, from somewhere marrow-deep, and in that moment, I was certain that whatever awaited me in that hearing, however thoroughly they meant to ruin me—this woman was my salvation. And she was worth it all.
She ground against my palm, greedy for friction, her nails carving crescents into my biceps as I coaxed impossibly sweet sounds from her throat. Her eyelids fluttered, and a terrible,gorgeous ache bloomed at the base of my spine. I pressed my thumb down, slow and relentless, and she clung to my shoulders like she no longer trusted gravity to keep her tethered to the bed. I savored the violence of her need—how the careful, self-possessed woman I knew unraveled under my touch.
I slowed. Withdrew my fingers. She whimpered, a ragged, aching protest. I held her gaze as I drew my wet hand up her belly, pausing at the dip of her ribs, then higher still, savoring the way her chest rose and fell, uneven and desperate. I brought my fingers to my lips. She watched, wide-eyed, as I sucked her taste from them.
But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to taste her every tremor.
I slid down, kissing a shaky, reverent path down her ribs, her stomach, the sweet hollow above her hip. She was already trembling when I pulled her thighs apart, and when I licked a slow stripe up the length of her, she gasped, both hands diving into my hair. I didn’t tease. Not today. Not when the world might crack open at any moment. I buried my tongue inside her, greedy and worshipful, and she arched into my mouth, her thighs locked around my shoulders. The sounds she made were velvet and thunder—helpless, and entirely mine.
I lost myself in it—in her—in the way she gripped my head, fingers threaded deep in my hair. I could have come right then, undone by the beauty of her helplessness. By the proof that I could remake the woman who had so often remade me.
She was close—she always tried to chase it down early, as if not trusting her body to deliver on the promise. I held her at the edge, tongue and fingers in counterpoint, calibrating every twitch and gasp until she stopped making sense—until logic fled and the raw animal core held court. When she came, it ripped through her whole body, arching her so hard she nearly threw me off her. She pulsed against my mouth, but I didn’t let up—not until she went soft and limp with aftershock.
“Holy. Fuck,” she rasped. And pride bloomed in my chest.
I kissed the inside of her thigh, then rested my cheek there, unwilling to rush the moment. “Does that mean I successfully stopped time?”
She dragged a hand through her hair, still breathless. “Fifth dimension unlocked.”
“And the sixth,” I said, pressing a slow kiss to her hip, “is all possible timelines. Every version of reality.” I crawled up her body, settling flush against her. “Want to know what happens in all of them?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“In every timeline,” I whispered against her skin, grabbing a condom from the nightstand, “I find you like this.” I tore the wrapper and rolled it on. “I make you come undone in my hands, again and again—until the universe runs out of ways to rearrange the stars.”
Her breath caught.
“And then I fuck you like the laws of physics never applied at all.”
She clung to me, legs locked tight around my hips, hands clawing for leverage on my back. I wanted to savor her—every delectable inch—to kneel at the altar of her pleasure. But my need was too immediate. I was already shaking, already half-mad with it.
I drove into her in one slow, deliberate thrust, feeling the give, the heat, the way she stretched to take me. She gasped—sharp, involuntary, broken open—and clawed my shoulders. I stilled, buried to the hilt, and let her feel me—every inch, every wild heartbeat.
“Fuck,” she whispered, voice breaking on the consonant. “Don’t stop, Cal, please?—”
Not even if the house was burning down around us.
