“Shh.” She bent down and took me in her mouth.
My hand went to her hair, gripping without thinking. She took me deep, her tongue working the underside, her hand covering what her mouth couldn’t reach. She was unhurried about it. My hips moved without my permission, pushing up into her mouth, and she let me. Her other hand pressed flat on my stomach, holding me there, feeling the muscles clench under her palm.
“I’m not going to last if you—”
She pulled off and looked up at me. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark. “Then don’t.”
“I want to be inside you.”
She climbed up my body and settled over me. I could feel the wet heat of her against my cock and my hands went to her hips, gripping hard.
My hand tightened on her hip. “You covered?”
“IUD. And no one else in fourteen months.” She held my gaze. “I always hoped we’d find our way back to each other.”
She reached down between us and guided me in. Sank down slow, taking me all the way, and we both went still.
“Fuck, Holden.” Her hands braced on my chest. “You feel—”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t manage more than that. She was tight around me, hot, every nerve ending I had focused on the place where we were joined.
She started to move. Rolling her hips in a slow grind, finding her angle, her nails digging into my chest. I watched her — the way her body moved, the way her breasts shifted with each roll, the way her eyes closed and her lips parted when she found the right spot.
I sat up. She made a surprised sound and then her legs wrapped around my waist and I was deeper, the angle changed. She gasped against my mouth as she felt it. I held her there — one arm around her back, one hand gripping her hip — and thrust up into her.
“Harder,” she said.
I gave her harder. Drove up into her while she held onto my shoulders, her forehead pressed against mine, her breath coming in short bursts that matched the rhythm of my hips. I could feel her tightening around me, her whole body coiling, and I reached between us and pressed my thumb against her clit.
She came with a sound I’d never heard from her — raw, broken, loud enough to carry. I thought about all the times before she’d whispered my name into my shoulder so no one would know. Not tonight. Tonight the whole clubhouse could hear, and she didn’t care. I followed her over two thrusts later, burying myself deep.
We lay there for a while, tangled, breathing.
“You okay?” I asked once I’d caught my breath.
“Better than okay.” She shifted, turned to face me. In the dim light I could just make out her expression — the satisfied smile on her face. “I missed you. Every day. I just wouldn’t let myself dwell on it.”
“I know.” I traced a line down her arm. “I missed you too. I didn’t handle it right. Any of it.”
“No. You didn’t.” She said it without heat. Just fact. “But you’re handling it now.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. She settled against my chest and I thought she was falling asleep. I counted her breaths until they slowed. Then her hand moved — tracing down my stomach, over my hip, back up the inside of my thigh. Not accidental.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said.
“I was thinking.”
“About?”
Her hand moved higher. Found me. I was already hardening again under her touch. “About how we have fourteen months to make up for.”
I rolled her onto her back. She laughed — the quiet, warm laugh I had spent the better part of fourteen months trying not to want — and pulled me down.
This time was different. No caution left. No measuring. I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and she arched up into me, her eyes dark and wanting. I kissed my way down her body — throat, breasts, ribs — biting softly at the curve of her hip, and she writhed under me.
“Holden, I swear—”
“What?” I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, inches from where she wanted me. “Tell me.”
