The moonlight illuminates the room. The bed is unmade and the room is cold. But none of it matters because she's pulling my flannel off and her hands are on my skin. Her fingers trace the lines of ink on my arms with an expression of focused wonder that nearly ends me.
I set her on the bed and take her glasses off carefully. I fold them and put them on the nightstand. Without them her face goes soft and I am the only thing in focus.
"Tell me if you want to stop," I say. "At any point."
"I know you will. That's why I'm here."
From there it’s a frenzy. I take my time. I ask. With every shift, every touch, and every new territory, I claim her.
10
evelyn
His flannel is already half off. I'm pulling at it before I realize my hands are moving. James shrugs out of it and the firelight from the other room catches the ink on his arms. Lines and shapes I've been wondering about since the first day he walked into the library. I trace one with my fingertip. It’s a dark branch that winds from his forearm to his bicep and his whole body goes still under my touch.
"Evelyn." My name in his mouth threatens to make me come undone.
I pull my sweater over my head. His eyes drop and his jaw tightens. The sound he makes does something to the pit of my stomach that I haven't felt in so long I'd forgotten it existed.
"Look at you." His voice is wrecked. He says it like he's seeing something sacred. Not performing. Not taking inventory. Justseeingme. "You're so beautiful it hurts."
No one has ever looked at me the way James Holt is looking at me right now. Like I'm not something to manage or control. He’s staring like I'm a wildfire and he wants to burn.
His hands find my waist. His palms are rough and callused. They slide up my ribs in a slow, steady movement and his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts. I gasp because itmakes tingles shoot across my skin and heat pools low in my belly.
"James." I'm shaking. Not from the cold. Not from fear. From the overwhelming reality of being touched by someone I actuallywantto touch me.
"I've got you." He presses his mouth to my collarbone. Then he moves lower.
James’ lips close around my nipple and I arch into him so hard my spine leaves the mattress. He lets out a groan against my skin. The vibration rolls through me and my fingers dig into his broad, solid shoulders I've been pretending not to stare at for weeks. I hold on and savor every moment.
"So responsive." He switches sides. His tongue circles slowly, and his hand palms what his mouth isn't covering. "Every sound you make, I swear sweetheart."
I can feel him against my thigh. He’s hard, thick, and straining against his jeans. The knowledge that I did that, thatIbroke through whatever iron self-control this man has, makes me bold in a way I haven't been in years.
My hand slides down his stomach. He catches my wrist.
"Not yet." His eyes are black. Pupils blown wide. "I need to see you come apart. Let me?—"
He drops to his knees beside the bed. His hands hook behind my thighs and pull me to the edge. I should feel exposed. I should feel the old panic. A part of me waits for the freeze or the disconnect. I hold my breath for the part of me that used to leave my body during anything intimate because it was easier to not be present.
It doesn’t come. Instead, I'm fully present. I'm so present it's almost unbearable. I memorize every detail of his hands on me and melt under his touch. His mouth finds the inside of my thighs and I let them fall open for him. Then he moves higher.His stubble drags across my skin and every nerve ending I have fires at once.
"James, you don't have to?—"
"I know I don't have to." He looks up at me. The firelight catches his face and his expression is ruined. He gives me every part of himself. "I want to. I've wanted to since the day I saw you standing in that library."
Then his mouth is on me and I stop thinking.
He runs his tongue across my slit and parts my folds with a groan that sounds like relief. His hands grip my thighs. My body clenches and jumps with every stroke. He holds me still and worships every part of me until I’m barely hanging on.
"James." My hand finds his hair. It’s thick between my fingers when I tug him toward me, desperate for more friction. "James, I?—"
"Let go." He murmurs it against me and the vibration makes my vision blur. "You're safe. Let go."
His tongue circles my nub in tight, steady passes. He slides two fingers inside me. James rocks them into me slowly and curling. He finds the spot like he already knows my body. It’s like he's been studying me the way he studies a broken thing that needs fixing, except I'm not broken. Not with him. Not right now. Right now I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
Tremors build in my body until I’m jumping with his every touch. It's been so long and he's so good. His fingers dive deeper and his mouth is relentless. I’m gasping for air and chanting his name into the darkness.
