"Probably still is."
"I've spent two days trying not to break you, Juliette." His voice was rough. "If I get in that bed, I'm stopping the act. I’m going to be heavy, and I’m going to be rough, and I need you to tell me right now if that’s going to be a problem."
I sat up slowly. Reached for him. Wrapped my hand around his length and watched his eyes go dark.
"I want that," I said. "I want you. However you need to take me."
He swore—a single, bitten-off word—and then he was on the bed, over me, around me, his weight a grounding force that pressed me into the mattress. His mouth found mine, and the kiss was bruising, claiming, everything I'd asked for.
His hand slid between us, fingers finding me wet and ready. He groaned against my mouth.
"So responsive," he murmured. "So fucking perfect like this. You have no idea what you do to me."
I arched into his touch, needing more. He gave it—two fingers sliding inside me while his thumb circled my clit with merciless control. The pressure built again, faster this time, and I clutched at his shoulders, his back, anywhere I could reach.
"Nick—I'm close—"
Control is officially gone.
"I know." His fingers curled, finding the pulse point that sent a violent, silver heat straight to my throat. "Come for me. Now."
The command broke me. I shattered beneath him, crying out, my body tightening and releasing in waves that seemed to go on forever. He rode it out with me, his fingers working me through every aftershock, until I was boneless and gasping beneath him.
“That’s it,” he said, voice rough against my throat. “Good girl.”
Only then did he withdraw. Only then did he position himself above me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
And stop.
I blinked up at him, still caught in the haze of my release. "What—"
"I don't have anything." His voice was strained, the control visibly costing him. "I didn't plan this. I never—" He closed his eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Tell me you're covered. Please tell me you're covered."
It took a second to understand. When I did, relief flooded through me.
"I’m covered. Birth control. And I’m clear. Haven't been with anyone in—" I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."
His eyes opened. Relief moved through them first, followed by a darker kind of heat.
“Clear on my end.”
"Then what are you waiting for?"
"This." He reached down, aligned himself again. “You needed the choice. No secrets, Juliette. Not tonight.”
I understood. In his world, in his job, information was survival. And he was giving me all of his.
"No secrets," I agreed.
He pushed inside me in one slow, inexorable movement.
The stretch was everything—fullness and heat and the sharp pleasure of being filled so completely. I gasped, my fingers locking around his biceps, and he stilled, giving me time to adjust. His forehead pressed to mine, his breathing ragged.
"Okay?" he managed.
"More than okay." I shifted my hips experimentally, and we both groaned. "Move. Please."
He did.
