I smiled against her skin. "Good to know."
Her leggings came next. I hooked my fingers in the waistband, dragged them down slow, kissing the newly exposedskin as I went—behind her knee, the back of her thigh, the curve of her hip. She stepped out of them, unsteady, and I caught her waist to steady her.
Then there was just her—standing in my bedroom in nothing but a thin sports bra and underwear, skin flushed, breath coming fast.
I sat back on my heels. Looked up at her.
God, she was beautiful. Not just the way her body moved or the shape of her, though that wrecked me too. But the way she stood there, unafraid, even after everything. Even after the bruises and the cameras and the goddamn games we’d both been playing.
I reached up. Traced the hem of her bra with my thumb. "You sure?"
She didn’t hesitate. "Touch me."
Her voice was rough, needy, and it shattered what was left of my control.
I hooked my fingers under the thin fabric of her bra and pulled it over her head. Her nipples were already hard, pebbled in the cool air, and I couldn’t resist leaning in to take one in my mouth. She gasped, her fingers tightening in my hair as I sucked gently, then harder when she arched into me. My tongue swirled around the peak, and I felt her shudder, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
"Calder—"
I switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, my free hand sliding up her ribs, thumb brushing over the first nipple I’d just abandoned. She whimpered, her body trembling under my touch. I could feel her heartbeat against my lips, fast and erratic, and it made me slow down even more. I wanted to memorize this—the way she tasted, the way she sounded, the way her body responded to mine like we were made for this.
I kissed my way down her stomach, my hands mapping the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, the softness of her thighs. When I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down, she stepped out of them without hesitation. I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then the other, breathing her in. She smelled like sweat and something sweet, something that was justher, and it made my head spin.
I looked up at her, my hands gripping her hips. "You’re so fucking beautiful."
She didn’t answer, just bit her lip and nodded, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I could see the flush spreading down her neck, her chest, the way her skin reacted to my words, to my touch. It was intoxicating.
I didn’t make her wait.
I kissed her first, slow and open-mouthed, right where she was softest. She jerked, her fingers flying to my hair, gripping tight. I didn’t rush. I took my time, kissing, licking, teasing her with the flat of my tongue until her legs were shaking. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her hips rolling subtly, seeking more.
"Please—"
I answered by dragging my tongue through her, slow and deliberate. She tasted like heaven, like something I’d been starving for without even knowing it. I did it again, and her knees nearly buckled. I caught her, my hands sliding under her ass to lift her just enough to keep her steady, my mouth never leaving her.
Her sounds filled the room—soft moans, breathy gasps, my name on her lips like a prayer. I worked her with my tongue, my lips, my fingers finally joining in, sliding inside her while my mouth kept up its slow, worshipping rhythm. She was so wet, so responsive, her body clenching around my fingers, her hips moving in time with my strokes.
I could feel her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath coming faster. I didn’t speed up. I kept the same deliberate pace, drawing it out, making her wait for it, making herfeelevery second of this. Her fingers tightened in my hair, her thighs trembling around my head.
"Calder, I?—"
I curled my fingers inside her, my tongue circling her clit, and she came with a broken cry, her body shuddering against my mouth. I didn’t stop, not until her tremors eased, until her breath slowed, until she was boneless and spent in my hands.
Only then did I press one last, slow kiss to her inner thigh and look up at her.
Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. She reached for me, her hands unsteady as they found my shoulders, pulling me up to meet her in a kiss that tasted like her, like us, like everything I’d been trying to outrun for weeks.
I stood, lifting her with me, and she wrapped her legs around my waist without breaking the kiss. I carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, following her down until my body covered hers, until there was no space left between us.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want there to be.
Chapter 25
Billie
Calder’s hands tightened on my hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there, grounding me as he positioned himself between my legs. I could feel him—hard, thick,there—and my breath hitched, my body already aching for him. He didn’t rush. He never did. That was the thing about Calder. He made youwait, made youfeelevery second, every inch, every shift in the air between you.
His eyes locked onto mine as he pushed inside, slow and deliberate. I gasped, my back arching off the bed, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He was big—sobig—and the stretch of him burned in the best way, my body adjusting to his, taking him in until there was nothing left between us. He bottomed out with a groan, his forehead dropping to mine, his breath hot against my lips.
