THIRTY-EIGHT
His hands found the hem of my sweater, pausing just long enough for me to nod before lifting it over my head. His eyes darkened as they took in the black lace bra I’d chosen that morning, and I felt a flush of satisfaction at his sharp intake of breath.
“Were you planning this?” he asked, his fingers tracing the delicate pattern along the tops of my breasts.
“Maybe.” I reached for his belt, my fingers slowly undoing the buckle, teasing him the way he always teased me. “Are you complaining?”
“Hell, no.” He captured my hands, stilling them, his thumbs stroking over my knuckles. “But first—” He cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I need you to know this isn’t just about celebrating or going public.”
My heart stuttered. “What is it about?”
“It’s about you. About us.” His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “About the fact that I’m completely gone for you, Harper Tinsley.”
His words left me feeling more exposed than I ever had.Before I could respond, he was kissing me again, and this time there was nothing desperate about it. This time, he kissed me like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to memorize every second.
When he finally pulled back, every nerve ending in my body was on fire.
“Now,” he said, his voice rough with desire, “let me show you exactly how much I’ve been thinking about this.”
His hands made quick work of my jeans, sliding them down my legs along with my panties. The cool air hit my bare skin, but Drew’s heated gaze made me feel like I was burning from the inside out.
“You’re incredible,” he breathed, his hands skimming up my thighs. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”
If he kept talking like this, my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.
No one had ever made me feel as much as he did.
Anger.
Frustration.
Need.
But also, happiness.
He made me feel beautiful and precious and amazing just the way I was. And I’d never realized how much I craved that kind of acceptance and affection until Drew gave it to me without me ever having to ask for it.
I tugged at his shirt, and he helped me pull it over his head. Then his hands were everywhere—in my hair, skimming over my curves, making me arch against him with sounds I couldn’t control.
“I know I’ve said it before, but goddamn, I love those little noises you make,” he murmured against my throat. “Drives me fucking crazy.”
His mouth found my pulse point, and I gasped as he sucked gently, marking me. The possessiveness of it sent heat spiraling through me.
“Drew, please,” I breathed, my hands grabbing at his belt.
Why was he still wearing pants?
“Please what, baby? Tell me what you need.”
“Make me come.”
He groaned at my words, quickly shedding his clothes before pressing me back onto the bed. He settled between my legs, the weight of him making me feel safe and claimed at the same time. His lips found my collarbone, then traced a burning path down my body, worshipping every inch of skin along the way.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he worked his way to where I needed him most. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my flesh as he pressed his face against my stomach. “Fuck, you smell incredible.” His tongue traced a searing trail down my abdomen, making my muscles quiver. “Been dreaming about this all fucking day.”
He nudged my legs apart, his breath hot against my inner thighs. “Look at you,” he whispered, his voice thick with reverence. “So fucking perfect. All mine.” He didn’t ask permission this time—his tongue swiped through my slick folds in one long, possessive stroke that had my back arching off the bed.
“Oh God!” My hands flew to his hair, tangling in the brown strands as he feasted on me. His mouth was relentless—sucking, licking, circling my clit with just the right pressure to make stars explode behind my eyelids. “Drew! Right there—fuck!”
