“Keep talking like that and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
“We can’t have that.” She releases me with a wicked smile. “Not when you promised to make me scream.”
I take back control, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. She tests my grip, her eyes flashing with equal parts challenge and desire.
“Stay,” I command.
“Make me.”
I kiss her hard enough to bruise, keeping her wrists pinned while my free hand works at her jeans. The button gives, then the zipper, and I shove the denim down her hips along with her underwear—plain cotton to match the bra, practical, perfect.
“Lift up.”
She does, and I strip her bare, tossing her jeans somewhere across the room. Then I sit back on my heels and just look.
She’s gorgeous. Spread out on my bed, wrists still held above her head even though I’ve released them, her thighs parted just enough to give me a glimpse of glistening pink. The bruises have faded. The stitches are gone. All that’s left is smooth skin and soft curves and the woman who’s turned my entire life upside down.
“You’re staring again,” she says, but her voice is breathless.
“I’m savoring.”
“Savor later. We’re on a deadline.”
“Right.” I hook my hands under her thighs and drag her to the edge of the bed. “Better be efficient about this, then.”
I drop to my knees.
“Boone—” She props herself up on her elbows, watching me. “You don’t have to every time we?—”
“I want to.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling the muscle quiver under my lips. “Need to.”
I don’t tease this time. We don’t have the luxury. I spread her open with my thumbs and lick a long stripe through her center, groaning at the first hit of her arousal on my tongue.
“Fuck—” Her head falls back, her hips lifting toward my mouth. “Yes?—”
She’s so wet already, slick and swollen and ready for me. I lap at her hungrily, learning her all over again—the spots that make her gasp, the pressure that makes her moan, the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp around my head.
“More,” she demands, her hand finding my hair. “I need—Boone, please?—”
I slide two fingers inside her, crooking them forward, and she shouts. Her inner walls clench around me like a vice, hot and tight and perfect.
“That’s it.” I pump my fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. “Let me feel you. Let me hear you.”
She’s not quiet. Never has been. The sounds she makes—the moans and whimpers and breathless curses—fill the room, and I drink them down like water in a desert. I’ve been waiting so long for this. So long to have her like this, spread out and desperate and mine.
“I’m close—” Her hand tightens in my hair. “God, Boone, I’m so close?—”
I seal my mouth over her clit and suck hard, curling my fingers against that spot inside her, and she shatters. Her whole body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed, a scream tearing from her throat that I’m sure the whole clubhouse can hear.
I work her through it, gentling my touch as the waves subside, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs as she comes down.
“Holy—” She’s panting, boneless, her hand still tangled in my hair. “That was?—”
“One.” I climb up her body, trailing kisses over her stomach, her ribs, her breasts. “That’s one.”
“You’re keeping count?”
“Promised to make the most of our hour.” I capture her mouth, letting her taste herself on my lips. “I take my promises seriously.”
