“Yes,” she gasps. “I want that. All of it.”
It only takes me three steps to reach the bed, at which I lower her onto it, but I don’t want to rush this. Setting her down in a sitting position first, I take my time removing her shirt, determined to get to know her body again.
Every inch of her skin mesmerizes me. Every curve. Every quick breath she takes as I plant kisses down her neck and across her shoulders before I kneel between her legs and continue kissing every part of her torso and lower.
Her skin tastes like wildflowers, a heady scent that draws my hellhound to the surface.
About fucking time, he grumbles, at which a needy smile breaks across Peyton’s face.
“Yes,” she moans, “it is.”
I give a growl, raising myself to claim her lips, sending my beast to the back of my mind becausethis… I want this all for myself.
That, too, seems to draw her approval.
She arches against me as I pick her back up and reposition her higher on the bed, stretching out beside her to begin again.
By the time my hand reaches her center, she has hooked her leg across my hip, pressed her chest to mine, and demands my kisses.
She’s slick where I touch her, and the temptation to slide my fingers inside her is intense.
As soon as that thought enters my head, she gasps and takes matters into her own hands, nudging me onto my back, her legs neatly straddling me. Her claws appear a moment later, and she dispenses with her underpants in two quick tears.
She pauses where she rests lightly on my stomach, her hair falling about her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted.
I choose you,I say within my mind.Always and forever, you.
“I choose you, too, Striker,” she says, leaning forward to brush her lips to mine, a quiet touch that deepens as she lowers herself onto me.
Her needy moan drives my control to the edge. I reach down to stroke her center while she lifts herself up and slides herself down again, her own movements pressing my thumb harder against her.
The tightness of her muscles and the quickness of her breathing tell me she’s already close, her beautiful body moving to a rhythm of its own. The more intense my own need becomes, the more she responds until she cries out, and her orgasm nearly takes me over the edge.
I seize control, intending only to finish when her thighs clench around me again, and she rocks into the thrust, her moan only intensifying. An even needier sound.
I respond on instinct, rolling us over so that I’m on top, taking the next thrust carefully because until now, she’s been in control, but she arches up beneath me, her hands gripping my lower back, drawing me faster into her.
Five more thrusts that I never want to end, and she orgasms again—or maybe she never stopped—her cries of release rising and filling my mind.
She takes me into the crash with her, and it’s powerful, devastating, and fragile all at once.
I lose my sense of time and space, of where I end, and she begins, knowing only that she means everything to me.
Turning us onto our sides, I wrap my arms around her, not even trying to catch my breath, my heart thumping hard in my chest.
She nestles herself against me, planting kisses on my shoulder and neck wherever she can reach before she settles down against me again.
Forever, I say within my mind, drawing a smile to her lips.
“Forever,” she whispers back.
We will walk through this life together. There will be difficult times ahead of us, along with the good. But we will hold each other’s hearts with trust and faith, honesty and love, taking care of each other, listening to each other, and building a life together.
And maybe… one day… we might even be lucky enough to welcome children into it.
“Two,” she says, clearly reading my thoughts as she curls up against me, her breathing finally evening out. “Or one. Or maybe three.”
“Okay, then, Fury,” I murmur, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “One or two or three.”
