“Tell me what you see,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me.
My throat was dry, my pulse wild. “You,” I whispered. “Only you, Drew.”
For a heartbeat, something fractured behind his eyes—a flicker of pain, of restraint on the verge of breaking. He took a slow step closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of him seep into my skin.
“Careful,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You say things like that, and I forget to be good.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to be,” I said before I could stop myself.
That broke something open. His hand came up, fingers brushing the side of my neck, tracing the rapid flutter of my pulse. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.”
The distance between us disappeared. His mouth found mine, not with gentleness but with purpose—slow, deliberate. His hands cupped my face, then slid down, drawing me closer until I could feel every uneven breath, every tremor of control slipping away.
He broke the kiss first, pressing his forehead to mine. His breath was warm, ragged.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, though his hands were still on my waist, his thumbs moving in slow, unsteady circles.
I shook my head, my fingers catching the front of his shirt. “No.”
The lamp light flickered across his face, catching in his eyes—gold and shadow.
“I love you, Mrs. Kamarov,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear.
“I love you too, so much.”
His hands were trembling as they went to the back of my dress, finding the delicate zipper. He pulled it down slowly, his eyes drinking me in as the heavy satin loosened. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he said quietly, his voice thick. “How hard it’s been to stay away.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered. “Not tonight.”
He tore off his suit jacket, ripping at the bow tie until it came free. He undid his dress shirt, buttons scattering, the sound sharp in the quiet room. My hands splayed across the hot, defined muscles of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
His hands returned to my dress, pushing the heavy fabric off my shoulders. It slithered down my body, pooling at my feet, and I stepped out of it. He was on his knees by the bed now, his eyes on me, still in the lace lingerie I’d hidden beneath.
“You’re sure?” he asked, one last time, his voice raw.
“Yes.”
The word broke the last of his restraint. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my panties, pulling them down slowly, his gaze following the movement. He tossed them aside and just…looked at me.
“Drew…” I breathed, my hips lifting instinctively.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned in, his lips brushing my inner thigh. I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I need…Cass, I need to prove you’re real.”
He kissed his way up my thigh, his breath hot, until his mouth was right at my center. He didn’t just taste me; heworshippedme. His tongue, slow and deliberate, traced my folds before finding my clit. I cried out, my back bowing. It wasn’t the gentle lapping of before; this was a desperate, hungry worship, as if he’d been starving and I was the only thing that could save him.
“Drew, please,” I begged, my body tensing, my hips trying to meet his mouth.
“Let go,” he commanded against my skin, and I did, shattering under his tongue, my orgasm ripping through me with a scream I barely recognized.
Before the shudders even stopped, he was shedding his own jeans, his cock springing free, thick and ready. He moved over me, parting my thighs.
“I’ve never wanted anything this much,” he said softly, positioning himself at my entrance, his cock pressing against my still-wet, still-throbbing folds. “And that terrifies me.”
“Then let it,” I whispered, my hands finding his hips. “Let it terrify us both.”
He slid into me. It wasn’t a slow burn or a frantic rush. It was…a homecoming. A perfect, complete slide that filled me, stretched me, and made me feelwhole. He stopped, burying himself to the hilt, and just stayed there, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us trembling.
