Love.
It’s terrifying and beautiful and so much more than I thought I was capable of after everything I’ve been through. But it’s real. Steady. Anchoring.
And I want more.
Not because I need it to prove anything. But because I want to show him what he means to me—what they all do. That I’m in this. One hundred percent in this.
I shift slightly in his lap, and his arms tighten instinctively around me.
“Willow?”
I answer by straddling him fully, my knees on either side of his thighs, my hands framing his face. His breath catches.
“Let me,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss him again. But this time it’s different. Hungrier. More sure. I’ve already made the choice, and now I just want to feel it. All of it.
Hunter groans low in his throat, his hands sliding to mywaist as I rock against him. The sensation of him growing hard beneath me urges me on.
“I thought you were tired,” he teases.
“I’m not,” I murmur against his lips. “Not with you.”
His hands roam, slow and reverent, but I don’t give him control this time. This time it’s mine.
I lean back just enough to tug my shorts down my hips, shimmying them over my thighs and kicking them off the bed. My panties follow, landing somewhere on the floor with the rest of my self-control. Then I add my shirt and bra to the pile.
Hunter watches me, eyes locked on every movement, memorizing the moment—burning it into his brain.
I reach between us, popping his button open and tugging the zipper down, the sound is loud in the quiet space between our breaths. I raise up slightly, and he pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing himself with a hiss through his teeth.
His cock juts out from his body—dark, thick, hot, and already hard for me.
I don’t hesitate as I shift over him, guiding him against me in a way that makes his jaw clench, his gaze darken. And then I sink down onto him, slowly, deliberately, taking everything he gives me.
Hunter’s head falls back against the pillows with a groan that vibrates through me. His hands grip my thighs, but he doesn’t guide me. Doesn’t rush. He lets me move at my own pace. Lets me take him how I need.
And I do.
I roll my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, feeling every thick inch of him stretch me, fill me. The slide is deep, intoxicating, dragging sparks along every nerve ending until I can’t think past the feel of him.
His eyes find mine again, and something clicks into place.Something heavy and right and real. I see it there—his restraint. His reverence. His want.
“Willow…” he whispers my name. His fingers flex against my thighs, holding on just enough to stop himself from flipping me, from taking over.
I lean forward, hands braced on his chest, and his skin is so warm beneath my palms. He smells like butter pecan ice cream and something deeper—something purely Hunter—and it curls low in my belly, blooming outward in waves.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, my lips brushing his. “You always do.”
His breath hitches. One hand slips up my back, cradling the nape of my neck. Sending tingles in its wake. The other lifts to cup my breast, his thumb sweeping across my nipple in a way that makes me shiver and clench around him.
“God, princess,” he groans. “You keep doing that and I won’t last.”
“Who says I want you to last?” I tease, breathless, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then his throat. I can feel the pulse hammering beneath his skin, wild and fast, matching mine.
But still, I don’t chase the end.
I savor it. The heat. The tension. The quiet sounds that escape him with every move of my hips. The way he looks at me—as though I’m his whole world and he’s terrified he might break it.
I lower myself fully against his chest, his cock still deep inside me, and press a kiss just beneath his ear.
