Page 95 of Game Misconduct
His eyes darken and he growls, crawling his way up my body.
Yessss…is all I can think when his bare skin touches mine. He’s warm and strong and hard in all the right places.
Something shifts in my chest, and while I know this should only be about sex, I can’t help but feel that it’s more.
I just hope I’m not alone in that feeling.
By the time he presses into me—slow, deep, and anchoring—I’m nearly ready to detonate.
His head drops to the curve of my neck as he moves, his hips meeting mine over and over.
Each thrust is thick with everything we’ve never said out loud.
This shouldn’t happen.
It was always going to.
“I should stop,” he growls, driving deeper. “Tell me to stop.”
“I won’t.”
He lifts his head, eyes black with need. “Then tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours. I’ve been yours since I first saw your picture.”
That breaks him.
His rhythm turns desperate, hips snapping harder, one hand tangled in my hair.
He kisses me like we’ll burn for it later, but every singe is worth it.
Every thrust drives me higher and higher until I’m once again begging him not to stop.
And when I shatter beneath him, he lets go too, spilling everything into me with a growl I feel in my bones.
Leaning his forehead against mine, he kisses me softly, our breath mingles.
Then he rolls us over and wraps his arms around me like he’s holding the only thing tethering him to this world.
The room is quiet except for the soft whisper of the HVAC and the rustle of sheets as I shift. His arm tightens around me.
He's awake.
Has been, maybe. Or maybe the movement stirred him.
I don’t open my eyes at first. I just let myself feel it—the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the way my body fits into his like it was built to belong there.
“You ever gonna sleep?” I murmur against his chest.
Maddox huffs a breath that might be a laugh. “I can’t. Not when I’m this close to you.”
I glance up, eyes meeting his. He brushes a piece of hair off my cheek, fingertips lingering.
Laying there, I just watch him for a moment.
His hair’s a mess. His mouth is still kiss-bitten. There’s a faint pink scratch on his shoulder from my nails.
God help me—I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
