I’ve got all night. And I’m going to use every second of it.
Chapter 19
Cara
Nate kicks the bedroom door open and I barely register Mr. Darcy’s indignant yowl as he bolts past us.
Then my back hits the mattress and Nate is over me—around me—everywhere.
So much for taking things slow.
He kisses like he’s furious. Like he’s been holding back for ten years and the dam just broke. His hands are rough, impatient, yanking at my shirt, and I arch up to help him pull it over my head.
“Off,” he growls. “All of it. I want you naked. Now.”
The command shoots straight between my thighs. I’m already slick, have been since he kissed me in the hallway, but now I feel it pooling, soaking through my underwear.
He notices. His nostrils flare, scenting the air, and his pupils blow wide.
“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked. His hands find my bra clasp, unhook it, strip it away. “Your scent. All day. Couldn’t think.”
“Nate.”
“Torture.” He cups my breasts, thumbs dragging over my nipples, and I gasp.
He drops his head and takes one nipple into his mouth.
I cry out, my hands flying to his hair. He’s not gentle. He sucks hard, teeth grazing, biting just enough to sting. My back arches off the bed and more slick gushes out of me, soaking through my jeans now. I can feel it, slick and hot between my thighs.
“Please.”
He switches to the other breast, giving it the same rough attention. Licking. Biting. Sucking until the nipple is swollen and sensitive. His hand slides up to pinch the one his mouth just left, rolling it between his fingers, and I’m writhing beneath him, desperate for more.
“Ten years.” He speaks against my skin, his breath hot. His hand slides down my stomach, pops the button on my jeans.
“Then make me scream.”
He pulls back to look at me. His jaw is tight, his chest heaving. He looks half-feral. Nothing like the controlled deputy I’ve been dealing with since I came back to town. This is the Nate I remember. The one who used to pin me against walls and fuck me until I couldn’t walk straight.
“Careful what you ask for.”
He strips my jeans and underwear in one rough motion. Tosses them somewhere behind him. And then I’m naked beneath him and he’s staring at me like he wants to devour me whole.
“Spread your legs.”
I do. The cool air hits my slick folds and I shiver, exposed, vulnerable. His eyes drop between my thighs and he makes a sound—low and guttural, almost pained.
He runs one finger through my folds, barely touching, and I whimper.
“All for me?” His voice is barely human.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He circles my clit, too light, teasing.
“Nate, please...”
“Please what?” He’s watching my face, cataloging every reaction. His finger dips lower, gathering slick, then drags it back up to circle my clit again. Still too light. Still teasing.
