Everything finally slots into place.
The faint scent of soap drifts between us with each inhale, breathing through my nose so I don’t have to disconnect from Hendricks’s mouth, and the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I always knew he would be a good kisser, but his tongue slipping across mine, exploring, soft yet firm, tastes like our life together is beginning.
Hendricks and Story.
Long fingers dig into my nape, hands gripping either side of my head like he’s scared I might leave again. I cling to him with equal desperation, finding it impossible to get closer.
Hendricks’s fist tangles in my hair, pulling me back. His face, so close to mine, looking at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me. Checking I’m real.
“You’re here,” he whispers, more to himself than me. “Not leaving.”
I’m about to nod the affirmative,again, but then he whips his shirt off.
“Holy shit.” I’ve seen cheese graters less impressive. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the hard, deep ridges of his abs. I was right, Hendricks is an absolute rig. “You got ripped.”
He laughs, dry and humorless. “Celibacy will dothat to you. I needed to channel it somewhere.”
My brows shoot up, his response taking me by surprise. “There’s been no one?”
He looks away and shrugs. “There has been the odd night or two when Miles has dragged me out, but no one regular. No one I wanted to bring into Max’s life.”
His words hang in the air unspoken. Because Max is the priority, and I know that navigating a relationship with Hendricks will require time and patience.
“Well,” I say, watching his breath catch as I take a second pass, ghosting my fingers over each deeply defined muscle and down to the crevices on either side of his hips. “I approve.”
My hand skates lower to the impressive tent in his pajama bottoms, the one that caused me to orgasm so hard I nearly blacked out.
His hand darts, and fingers wrap around my wrist. “Not yet.”
“Hen—” It’s a desperate, childish plea.
He chuckles, and this time, I hear the amusement. “I know it’s not your strong suit, but have patience, Story.”
It really isn’t. Even watching him reach out, using his thumb to gently push aside my bra straps when I want to rip them off my body and rub against his, is driving me crazy. So I’m unprepared when he yanks me closer and onto his lap.
His mouth drags across my chest, hands roaming my curves, palms flat on my back. I’m so distracted by his tongue licking the length of my neck that I don’t register he’s unsnapped my bra until it falls away.
Huge, strong hands, so used to dealing with unruly animals, gently cup my breasts. He studies me,like one would a piece of art, with consideration and reverence.
“Story,fuck. They’re perfect,” he says before burying his face between my breasts, mumbling words I cannot hear.
Wetness floods between my legs. His lips find a nipple and close around it. Using his tongue, he teases the bud like it’s a challenge to see how rock-hard he can get it. I’m convinced they can already cut glass. On my other breast, his thumb moves in circles between pinches and swipes. The mixed sensation of the two is enough to have my head explode.
My ability to hold on becomes a tenuous thread when his hand slips between my legs, and he groans.
His solid thighs widen, splaying me open, and the expression forming as he peers between my legs is nothing short of wolfish while he runs a finger back and forth across the satin strip of my knickers.
“Is this how wet you were last night, Stor? Riding my lap? Getting yourself off?” he asks, pushing the fabric aside. I drip onto his palm.
My response is a gasp when one thick finger slides inside me.
His finger twists. “Tell me.”
“Ohhh,yes.” I exhale.
“How long have you been waiting?”
With lips on my neck, his thumb finds my clit. I writhe against his palm, needing to increase the pressure. His legs spread farther, opening me up, the movement forcing my hips forward.
