When it finally subsided, I lay limp on the leather seat, staring at the ceiling of the limo, trying to remember how to breathe.
Knox crawled up my body, pressing kisses to my stomach, my breasts, my collarbone, my jaw. When his face hovered above mine, I could smell myself on him. Could see the evidence of my pleasure glistening on his lips.
He kissed me. Deep and slow and filthy. I tasted myself on his tongue, and somehow, that only made me want him more.
I had never felt this uninhibited with another human being. Only with Knox. Everything was different with Knox.
And any question about whether our connection had been fantasy, whether it could survive outside those prison walls, had been answered in the back of this limo. Because with each orgasm he gave me, my desire for him didn’t fade.
It only grew.
I couldn’t imagine any other mouth on me for the rest of my life. Only his.
I reached between us and palmed him through his jeans. He was rock hard again, straining against the denim.
“How long do we have?” His voice was urgent now. Desperate.
I glanced at the clock and winced. “We should be pulling up any minute.”
He dropped his head to my shoulder, his whole body tensing with frustration.
“Princess”—he lifted his head, and his eyes were blazing—“this party had better be short. Because if it’s not, I’m going to drag you into your bedroom, and everyone in that house is going to listen to me fuck you senseless.”
I should have been scandalized.
Instead, heat pooled between my thighs all over again.
“Is that a promise?”
His grin was wicked. “That’s a guarantee.”
The limo slowed. Turned. I felt us pulling into my driveway.
Knox groaned and rolled off me, scrubbing a hand over his hair. I scrambled for my clothes, yanking on my bra and shirt while he adjusted himself in his jeans with a pained expression.
“This is torture,” he muttered.
“It’ll be worth the wait.”
He caught my hand as I reached for my panties. Pulled them from my grip. Stuffed them into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Giving myself something to think about during this party.”
Holy hell.
The limo stopped. Inside my bungalow were a group of people who had waited fourteen years to welcome Knox home.
I looked at him.
“Ready?” I asked.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Soft. Tender. So at odds with everything we’d just done.
“With you? Always.”
I opened the door.
