She nods fast. “I’m here. I’m real. I’m yours.”
“Good,” I rasp, because I can’t survive losing her.
She arches into me, rubbing along my cock through my jeans, and I groan, low and violent.
“Bedroom,” I groan against her mouth.
“No,” she gasps. “Right here.”
“Your arm?—”
“Is fine. Need you, Wyatt. Now.”
I drag her coat off, then mine, then her shirt, dropping everything to the floor like I’ll burn if I don’t get skin.
She fumbles with my belt, hands shaking, cursing softly when the buckle resists.
“Slow down,” I murmur, even as my pulse slams against my throat.
“I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “I need you. Wyatt, I need?—”
“I know.” I kiss her again, slow and deep. Anchoring. “I’m right here, Dove. I’ve got you.”
Her breath hitches. “Don’t stop touching me.”
“I’m not stopping anything.” My mouth trails down her jaw, her neck, tasting her—salt, cold air, fear fading into need. “Never again.”
I slide my hands up her thighs, grip her, and lift her higher so she can feel how hard I am through my jeans.
Her gasp is pure and wrecked. “Wyatt, please!”
I lower her just enough to get leverage, my hands shaking as I peel her leggings down.
She’s panting, back pressed to the door, blue eyes wide and wild.
I slide two fingers between her legs.
She’s soaked.
“Fuck,” I choke. “Sadie?—”
“Wyatt, don’t tease. Please.”
I kiss her fiercely and line myself up, gripping her hips as I push inside her in one deep, unstoppable thrust.
She cries out.
I bite back a curse.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe against her mouth. “You feel… fuck!”
She shudders, arms crushing around my neck.
“I thought… I thought I’d never…”
“Don’t.” I thrust again, harder. “Don’t think about that. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Our bodies slam together desperately, the door rattling behind her. She’s so tight around me that I can barely think. Every thrust feels like redemption and punishment and pure fucking heaven.
