A rough sound tears out of my throat. “Jesus, Katie…you’re trying to end me.”
She pulls back just far enough to breathe, her lips slick, curved in a wicked little smile before she licks the precum from the tip. “You already sound close.”
I slide my fingers into her hair, holding just firm enough to guide her, not enough to push. “You do this to me,” I tell her, voice low. “Every damn time, you take me apart.”
Her mouth works over me in a way that knocks every coherent thought out of my head. The wet heat, the way she tightens her grip on my thighs, the soft sound she makes when she takes me deeper—my legs go unsteady. I watch her, absolutely wrecked by the sight of her eyes lifting to mine, daring me to lose control. Shealways gives like this, unafraid, determined to get us both exactly where we need to be. It’s need and heat and something almost tender, all tangled together.
Before I say something I can’t take back, she pulls off me and rises, breath uneven. I catch her hips and kiss her hard, the kind of rough, hungry press that leaves us both shaking. Her hands slide under my shirt and pushes it up, impatient, and I haul it over my head and toss it aside. She strips her tank and shorts just as fast, all frantic fingers and whispered curses because we don’t have much time before she has to leave. We’re both half laughing, half desperate as we reach for each other again, and the urgency sends a sharp rush straight through me. I guide her back onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress, and reach for the condom. The foil tears under my fingers, my hands unsteady from wanting her more than the clock will allow.
“All fours,” I say, voice rough. “I want to see you.”
She hesitates, just for a second. “I didn’t shave.”
I blink, then laugh. “Do you think that matters?” I run my hands over her ass, her thighs, her back, slow and worshipful. “You could never shave again and I’d still want you like this. You think I care about smooth skin when I’ve got you dripping for me?”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now. The one that makes my chest tight and my grip gentler.
I roll the condom on, line myself up, and slide in slowly. Inch by inch, until I’m buried deep and she gasps, back arching, fingers clutching the sheets.
“You feel that?” I whisper, leaning over her. “Fuck, it’s so good, Katie. Your pussy’s made for me.”
She moans, hips pushing back, and I start to move—slow at first, savoring every drag, then harder, faster, chasing that rhythmwe always find together. Her breath stutters, her body tightens, and I lean in, mouth at her ear.
“Look at you,” I growl. “So good, so fucking good.”
Her breaths come quicker, her eyes squeeze shut. “God, Cam, you're so deep.”
“Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes,” she gasps, voice breaking.
“Come on my cock, Katie,” I growl, hand slipping around to rub her clit, fast and firm.
She drops forward onto her forearms, the curve of her back tightening as she braces against the mattress. I hold her hips, driving into her, and the moment she starts to shake I know she’s close. Her breath stutters, fingers clawing at the sheets, and when she falls apart, the sound of her saying my name sends a raw jolt through me. Her body clenches around me in tight, rhythmic waves, and the sight of her trembling on her elbows and knees—every part of her giving in—pushes me straight over the edge.
My release hits hard, hips snapping forward once, twice, before I fold over her, one hand gripping her waist as the intensity drags through me. I stay there for a moment, chest pressed to her back, breathing against her shoulder, letting the last of it pulse through both of us.
When I finally ease out, she sinks onto the mattress, chest rising and falling in a rough, uneven rhythm. I drop beside her, sliding a hand down her thigh, grounding both of us. Her fingers reach back to tap my arm, a quiet gesture that somehow lands deeper than the sex.
“Thanks, Wells,” she says, voice still unsteady. “I needed that.”
I trail my thumb along her hip before pushing up from the bed. “Anytime.”
I head into the bathroom, take care of the condom, wash up, and try to pull myself together. The rush of the moment still thrumming under my skin. When I walk back into the bedroom, she’s already dressed—hair pulled into place, expression composed—as if she’s gathering every loose piece of herself before the afternoon picks up again.
I step into my jeans and tug them up, still warm from where she had been pressed against me, and for a second I almost don’t ask. Almost. But the thought of Evie lighting up at the idea gives me just enough push to take the chance.
“So,” I say, fastening the button, “what are you and Evie doing this Saturday afternoon?”
Kate glances over her shoulder, brow tightening the way it does whenever she senses hidden intent. “Nothing planned. Why?”
I pull my T-shirt down and try to keep my tone casual. “I was thinking we could take Evie to Mill Mountain Zoo. Maybe grab lunch at that waffle place Knox keeps talking about. Make it a small day trip.”
Her mouth parts slightly—surprise, hesitation, something mixed between the two—but she shuts it down fast. “That’s…a lot, Cam. I’ve got book club Saturday morning at the library. I’ll probably need to decompress after dealing with Haddie and her fan club.”
The rejection lands sharper than I want it to, but I swallow it, keep everything even. “Yeah. Sure. Just figured I’d ask.”
She fiddles with her bracelet, gaze pulling away. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just have a lot going on.”
