Page 126 of Beauty and the Daddy
His hands cradle my face like I'm the most precious thing he's ever held.
"I love you," he whispers against my lips. "I should have told you before everything went to hell."
My heart stutters. "You love me?"
"More than I thought possible." His forehead rests against mine. "When I saw you bleeding on the floor, I realized I never told you. And if you'd—" his voice cracks, "—if you'd died, you would never have known."
"I'm right here," I promise, taking his hand and placing it over my heart. "Feel that? Still beating. Still yours."
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and it's like he's done being careful.
Hunger takes over, stealing my breath, stealing every thought that isn't him.
His tongue tangles with mine and, BAM, my body's on fire.
Heat coils low, sharp and demanding, and I'm arching into him before I can stop myself.
God help me, I'm gone.
"Belle," he breathes, pulling back. "Your shoulder?—"
"Is fine." I tug him closer. "The doctor said so, remember?"
His eyes pin me, searching like he's waiting for me to show him pain.
Joke's on him. I'll burn if I don't have him.
He reads what I need, thank the fucking stars.
"Lie back," he says, his voice dropping to that register that makes my skin tingle.
I do as he commands, watching as he carefully helps me out of my shirt, working around my shoulder with gentle hands.
Then he takes off my bra, reverent as a priest, and I tremble from how he watches me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, eyes traveling over me. "So fucking beautiful."
His hands are warm as they skim over my ribs, my stomach.
He bends to kiss the curve of my breast, his mouth hot and wet against my skin.
I gasp when his tongue circles my nipple, teasing it to a hard peak before moving to the other.
"Luca." I thread my good hand through his hair.
He takes his time, worshipping each inch of skin with his lips and tongue until I'm squirming beneath him.
His hand slips beneath the waistband of my pajama pants, finding me wet and ready.
"For me?" he asks, fingers stroking through my folds.
"Always for you," I pant, lifting my hips to meet his touch.
He helps me wiggle out of my pants and underwear, leaving me naked while he's still fully clothed.
It's soft. It's lazy. It's a moment I etch into my mind.
He stretches out beside me, his clothed body a cozy thing to nestle up against.
