I blink. “What?”
“Your ankle, Archie. The broken one. How do I do this without making it worse?”
“I cannot believe you’re performing a risk assessment right now.”
“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“The fact that you can still form a sentence with that many syllables right now is honestly a bit insulting.”
He huffs out a laugh as I reach over for a pillow and chuck it under my hips.
“This will work,” I say, grabbing him and yanking him down on top of me.
Fuck, I love having his warmth against mine, his chest hair scraping my skin.
I guide him into position, feeling the blunt pressure of him against my entrance. “Now stop thinking about my ankle and start?—”
He pushes inside, and the rest of my sentence dissolves into a moan.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Leo’s forehead drops to mine, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I can feel him trembling with the effort of holding still.
“Okay?” he manages.
“More than okay.” I wrap my good leg around his waist and pull him deeper. “Move. Please move.”
He does.
The first thrust punches the air out of my lungs. The second makes me see stars. By the third, I’ve forgotten my own name.
“God, you feel—” Leo’s voice breaks off. He’s moving faster now, harder, each thrust driving me deeper into the mattress. “Archie, you feel so?—”
“I know.” I’m clinging to his shoulders, his back, anything I can reach. “I know, I know, don’t stop?—”
He shifts his angle and hits something, making me cry out. His hand clamps over my mouth immediately.
“Elizabeth,” he reminds me, but his voice is wrecked.
Oh shit, that’s right. We’re not alone in this apartment. But I don’t care. All I want is Leo moving inside me.
I bite his palm, and he groans.
“Then make me be quiet,” I gasp against his hand.
He kisses me, swallowing every sound I make as he drives into me again and again.
I should have realized Leo would fuck like this. All competence and intensity and laser focus, like making me fall apart is a task on his to-do list, and Leo Brennan does not leave tasks incomplete.
He seems to be closely watching my every response. Every gasp, every shiver, every involuntary clench. Filing away what makes me moan, what makes me writhe, what makes me dig my nails into his back hard enough to leave marks.
Data collection, but make it sexy.
“There,” I manage when he hits that spot again. “Right there, don’t you dare?—”
He doesn’t dare. He keeps the angle exactly where I need it, driving into me with devastating precision.
The buttoned-up control freak who arranges his shoes by color has completely unraveled, and the man underneath is hungry, demanding, and absolutely relentless.
I created this monster.
