My hips.
My waist.
My ribs.
Every touch sets off another wave of desire. My composure fractures when his fingers graze the undersides of my breasts, and a jolt of electricity shoots straight through me. The fabric whispers over my skin as he slides it higher.
Then it’s gone, discarded somewhere behind him, leaving the cool air to kiss my bare flesh while his heated gaze follows, worshipful and possessive all at once.
For a second, he simply stares. There’s only the intense pull of his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.
“You’re so damn beautiful.”
His adoration sears everywhere, racing beneath my skin and thrumming through my veins before pooling in my belly until it’s almost unbearable.
He strips off his shirt in one smooth motion before dropping it to the floor. The clink of his belt comes next, then the rasp of denim sliding down his muscular thighs. Each sound is amplified in the hush between us. Every piece of clothing that falls away feels like another wall crumbling, another mile of distance disappearing.
When he’s finally bare, he pauses. It’s not to pose or preen but to let me see him.
Really see him.
Moonlight spills through the window, washing his skin in both silver and shadow. The sculpted planes of his chest rise and fall with each breath, and for a moment, I forget how to take one of my own.
When I reach out, he closes the distance between us without hesitation. The mattress dips beneath his weight as the faint scent of cedar and spice settles around us. His hand finds the curve of my hip, rough palm skimming upward, claiming each inch with measured strokes until he finds my breast.
His thumb traces a lazy circle across my flesh, and my body answers with a helpless arch.
Our mouths find one other again, hungrier this time. The kiss deepens, unfurling into something that scatters every single thought as his tongue slides against mine.
He shifts, fitting his body over mine until we’re chest to chest. The world narrows to the slick slide of him between my thighs and the sound he makes when I tremble beneath him.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispers against my throat.
“You,” I admit, the confession breaking on a sigh. “Just you. Just this.”
He exhales a shaky curse that vibrates through me as his hand finds mine, fingers threading tight before guiding our joined hands above my head. The movement pins me to the mattress, anchoring me even as everything unravels.
When he finally pushes inside my body, it feels less like possession and more like a homecoming. Almost as if every locked door has opened, allowing light to spill into the spaces I’ve kept dark for far too long.
For years, I’ve made safety my religion and control my armor. But here, with Oliver, every wall I’ve built turns to dust.
We fall into a steady tempo that has always found us, no matter how far we’ve drifted apart. His body fits against mine as if it was molded to fill every curve and hollow. His mouth grazes my temple as my fingers clutch the back of his neck, needing to feel the solid weight of him.
Each thrust is deliberate, deep enough to be felt long after. The pleasure builds gradually, consuming me in waves, until it’s not just desire flooding my veins.
It’s trust.
Every movement spills the truth I’ve been holding back.
I tilt my hips, chasing more, and the raw, guttural sound he makes rips straight through me.
His forehead drops to mine. “Look at me.”
Our gazes collide, and the world stops spinning, slowing to a halt.
There are no walls left between us.
No games.
