“Tell me,” I growled, fucking into her so deep she cried out. “Tell me you need it.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “God, Austin, yes—I need it. Please don’t stop.”
Her words wrecked me. I drove harder. Rougher. One hand braced on the table, the other holding the back of her neck like I couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go. She took everything I gave her, body clenching around me, mouth open in surrender.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasped against her throat. “Like you were made for this. For me.”
She was unraveling beneath me, her body shaking, the table groaning under our weight, until she shattered. I felt her fall apart in the way she clung to me, in the way she cried out andburied her face in my neck, in the way her body gripped mine so tight I saw stars.
I followed her over the edge a breath later, cursing against her skin, hips stuttering as I emptied inside her.
It took a full minute to breathe again.
It was hard to remember where we were—who we were—but I never let her go.
Her forehead rested against mine. Her breath fanned over my lips.
“I think,” I murmured, still buried inside her, “you’ve officially ruined me.”
Selene’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and soft and a little glassy.
And then she smiled.
EIGHTEEN
SELENE
I stayed there for a moment—perchedon the edge of the table, legs bare and trembling, Austin’s chest still pressed to mine. My fingers were in his hair, slack now, no longer clinging like they had been a minute ago. The air between us shimmered with heat, but something colder had already started to crawl beneath my skin.
He was still holding me, and I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that without needing to be asked.
The rise and fall of his breath moved against me, steady and solid. I’d forgotten what that felt like. That slow, grounding rhythm of another person simply being there without expectation or apology.
To simply be a woman in a man’s arms.
My body was sated, aching in the best way, but my thoughts—those were less cooperative. They were already spinning, pulling me under like a riptide I hadn’t prepared for.
What the hell had I just done? Again.
A smile played at my lips before I could stop it. Austin’s head dipped, his mouth brushing against the edge of my jaw like it was second nature. It was so gentle, so instinctive, it almost broke me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and rough, the kind of voice you didn’t forget even after the sound faded.
I nodded too quickly. “I think so.”
A flicker of a grin pulled at his mouth. “I can’t feel my legs.”
I sucked in a breath, tried to laugh, but it came out thin and strange. I shifted slightly, the cool edge of the table pressing into my thighs—a reminder that I was still half naked and very much exposed. Not just physically, but in a way that went deeper than skin. I reached down, fingers fumbling slightly as I tugged the hem of my dress back into place, smoothing the fabric over my legs.
Austin didn’t look away. He didn’t leer or make a joke. He just watched me—quiet, present, and reverent in a way that made my throat go tight.
The intimacy of it all settled around us, heavy and a little bit strange. It was a connectedness that didn’t come from sex, but from what came after. Just a man standing in my home after wrecking me in the most beautiful way, watching me like I was something sacred.
My underwear was somewhere on the floor, I was pretty sure, but modesty wasn’t the point.
I needed the barrier. Something.Anything.
The truth was, the more I came back to myself, the more I realized I’d done something dangerous.
