Page 106 of Our Darkest Summer
She trembledbeneath my touch as my fingers skimmed the inside of her thigh. I brushed my lips against hers with aching slowness. She felt so warm, so alive. She melted into me, her hands gliding down my back, then gripping, pressing—as if trying to pull me deeper into her, to say without words:Don’t stop. I need this. I need you.
And God, I needed her too.
My fingers traced the delicate line of her hip, then lower, teasing, my touch featherlight. Kinsley let out a soft sound, barely a whisper, but it shot straight through me. My control frayed, body taut with restraint. But I didn’t move faster. I wanted to feel everything. I wantedherto feel everything.
I pressed my forehead to hers, our breaths tangling as I mapped the curves of her body.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I whispered, but I already knew the answer. It was in the way she arched into me, her nails digging into my skin, her lips parting on a quiet gasp.
“It’s not enough,” she breathed, and that was all I needed.
I let my hand slide between her thighs, swiping a finger over her soft heat.
“God, Kinsley,” I murmured, my voice cracking. “You’re so wet.”
She let out the sweetest sound, her body tightening beneath me. I kissed the side of her neck, tasting her, breathing her in.Strawberry and vanilla.
It was her. Always her.
Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging slightly, and a deep, low groan rumbled in my chest. She was so soft beneath me, so warm, so achingly real.Mine.
She kissed me gently, and I kissed her like she was oxygen and I was taking my last breath. My hands roamed lower, my lips following, trailing slow, lingering kisses over her collarbone, down to her breasts. I swirled my tongue around her nipple, holding her as she arched into me, before I moved toward the curve of her ribs. When I reached the heat of her, her breath hitched, her fingers flexed against my shoulders.
“Thomas,” she whispered, like my name was sacred. I exhaled sharply, barely holding myself together.
“Say it again,” I murmured, my voice thick, my body wound tight with restraint.
Say it like I matter.
Say it like I’m yours.
She held onto me tighter, pleading my name, her voice breaking on a breathless gasp. I tasted her, and she flooded my senses, warm and sweet, addictive. She was exactly like how I dreamed.
My hands smoothed up her thighs, gripping, pulling her closer as I sucked gently on the most sensitive part of her. Her hips bucked against my mouth, and I groaned, reveling in how she responded to me, how she gave herself over completely. My hands trailed lower, and I gently pushed the tip of my finger into her warmth. She arched beneath me, spreading open even more, her hands fisting the sheets.
“Thomas—” that sound—thatneedin her—shattered something in me. “Please.”
I slipped another finger into her, my tongue tracing slow circles against her, savoring the way she writhed beneath me. My grip tightened around her thigh, holding her in place as I took my time, dragging my tongue over her, teasing, deepening, letting her feel every flick, every swirl, every vibration against her skin. God, she was divine. Sweet, warm, familiar in a way my dreams never quite got it right.
If I were to ever starve, all I would ask for would be her. She was intoxicating.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging, guiding, but I took my time, drawing out her pleasure, listening to every shaky breath. I felt her body tensing, her thighs trembling beneath my hands. Her moans turned sharper, her breath catching, then breaking as she shattered completely. I curled my fingers, pumping them slowly as she tightened around me.
“Oh, God, Thomas.” Her cry was sharp, fractured with something between desperation and release. She pulled me closer, her body arching, trembling against me. I pressed deeper, holding her through it, feeling her come undone against my lips. Wanting to taste everything that she was.
Slowly, I eased my fingers out, my body aching with restraint as I rose to my knees, and licked away every last drop of her sweetness, before leaning over her again.
I pressed slow kisses against her inner thighs, biting her warm skin. “You’re so perfect, Sage.”
My voice was hoarse, wrecked with the need to feel her again, to have her completely. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers still tangled in my hair.
“Thomas,” she whispered, her voice heavy with longing.
My breath came in short, ragged exhales as I kissed my way up her body. When I reached her lips, she met me halfway.
Still breathless. Still open.
She kissed me like I was her center of gravity—like she wasn’t quite whole without the feel of my mouth against hers.
