Not nerves.
Need.
A need I feel just as fiercely.
I drag my mouth higher, kissing the tender spot at her hip, my hand sliding between her thighs, stroking her with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how to unravel her.
She arches, her head tilting back, lips parted, a soft moan spilling out, the kind I’ve become addicted to.
I claim her mouth with mine again as my fingers find that perfect rhythm that turns her limbs to liquid. Her thighs tense, then relax around me, her hands gripping my shoulders, pulling, pleading.
“Nitro…” she rasps, her voice breaking apart as if she’s been holding the words in her chest for hours. “God, I need you…”
The sound detonates something feral in me.
A growl tears from my throat, low, raw, and territorial. Every instinct I have is clawing to the surface. “Good,” I rumble, my mouth brushing her jaw as my fingers thrust deeper, slower, exactly how she likes it. “Because I need you, too, Small Town. More than I need to fucking breathe.”
Her whole body answers me, a full-body shiver, her back arching off the mattress, her thighs clamping around my wrist, her breath catching in a way that makes me think she’s trying to inhale me.
She melts under my touch, every muscle softening and tightening all at once. She’s unraveling and holding on at the same time. I curl my fingers just right, and she gasps, a perfect, desperate sound, her nails digging into my shoulders so hard I swear she’s branding me.
Her skin is hot, flushed, her heartbeat pounding under my palm as though it’s trying to reach mine. The slick, tight pull of her around my fingers nearly knocks the air out of me.
“Fuck… that’s it,” I murmur against her throat, licking a slow stripe up to her ear while my fingers stroke her deep. “Take it, baby. Let me feel you.”
Her hips lift helplessly, chasing every touch like she’s starving for it.
Shaking.
Trembling.
Fighting to hold on and failing beautifully.
She’s close, I feel it in everything.
The tension in her thighs.
The way her breath hiccups.
The way her hand in my hair tightens, suggesting she’s terrified I’ll stop.
Her whole body coils, tight and trembling, a fuse burning toward detonation.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I whisper, kissing her slow and deep while my fingers work her in that perfect rhythm. “I’ve got you. I always have you. Come for me, baby.”
She breaks apart in my hand, trembling, gasping, clinging. Her body pulses around my fingers, dragging me deeper with every slow, helpless clench.
I hold her through all of it, every shudder, sound, and moment she loses control under me.
And I swear, nothing in my entire life has ever felt like this.
Like being trusted.
Wanted.
Needed.
She’s still shaking when I ease my fingers out of her, slow so she feels every inch of the withdrawal. Her release coats my fingertips, warm and slick, and I trail them up her stomach, leaving faint, teasing streaks on her skin.
