“Or you could stay.” I set down my coffee and trail my fingers up her arm. “Have breakfast with me. Spend the day.”
“Nate…”
“I know. You have responsibilities. A life. I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.” I pause. “Much.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” I lean in and press a kiss to her bare shoulder, right over the bite mark. “I like having you here. In my space. Wearing my marks.”
Her breath catches. “You’re very possessive for someone I’ve known for a couple of weeks.”
“I warned you. You welcomed it.”
She chuckles then sighs again and gives me a placating smile. “But I really do need to go eventually. Check in with people. Maintain some semblance of a professional life. Otherwise, the magazine might pull the plug. Say I got too close to the source and ruined all objectivity.”
“Well, that would beawful.” I grin.
She rolls her eyes. I pluck the coffee cup from her hands and set it on the nightstand, ignoring her noise of protest. Then, I’m pulling the sheet away, exposing her to the morning light, and settling myself between her thighs.
“Nate—” She’s already breathless. “I’m sore. You’ve broken me in like a horse.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to her hip bone, then lower. “I’ll be gentle.”
“You don’t know how to be gentle.”
“I’m a quick learner.”
I prove it by going slow—soft licks instead of hungry devouring, gentle suction instead of desperate pressure. I worship her with my mouth, taking my time, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her moan and what makes her fist her hands in my hair and pull.
She comes quietly this time, a shuddering sigh rather than a scream, and I lap at her through the aftershocks until she pushes my head away.
I crawl up her body, settling my weight on top of her, my cock hard and aching against her thigh. She reaches for me, but I catch her wrist, pinning it to the pillow.
“Not yet,” I murmur.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to look at you first.”
I hold myself above her, taking her in. The flush spreading down her chest. The glazed look in her big brown eyes. The way her lips are parted, swollen, waiting.
Beautiful, I think.Fucking beautiful.
But more than that—mine. She’s in my bed, wearing my marks, still wet from my mouth. And I want more. Want to mark her deeper. Want to fill her so full of me, she can never forget who she belongs to.
The thought sends a surge of heat through my blood. I’ve always had this…thing. This urge. The need to claim, to possess, to leave some part of myself behind. With other women, I buried it, kept it locked away. But with Mia, the door is already wide open.
I want to give her everything.
I reach between us and position myself at her entrance, watching her face.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I say, moving my thick tip back and forth to ready her.
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine.
I look down to where our bodies meet and push inside slowly, watching as I disappear inside her. We both groan. She’s swollen from the last while—tighter than before, gripping me like a fist—and the sensation is almost too intense to bear.
“Fuck,” I breathe, pulling out slowly, so slowly, staring at how wet my cock is.
