Page 98 of Bone’s Choice

When he entered me, it was gradual. A steady pressure that built and built until I had to remember to breathe. I gripped the sheets, knuckles white, and he paused, trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Hazel.” My name came out broken. “Tell me—”

“Don’t stop,” I said, and I meant it.

He didn’t. He started slow, giving me time to adjust before his thrusts grew harder. I gripped the sheets as a moan slipped out of me. The angle had him hitting a spot that made my legs shake.

Bone’s hand slid from my hip to my stomach, pulling me up until my back arched against his chest. He was everywhere then, surrounding me, his mouth finding the curve of my shoulder, my neck. His other hand moved between my legs, and I cried out at the sudden spark of pleasure, sharp and unexpected.

“That’s it,” he murmured against my skin. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

I didn’t know I was close until I was there, until my whole body tightened around him. He groaned, actually groaned, his rhythm faltering before he found it again, harder now, chasing his own release.

When Bone came, he buried his face against my neck and groaned my name. His arms tightened around me while we both tried to catch our breath.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he eased us down onto the bed, still tangled together, and pulled the blanket over us with his free hand.

“You good?” he asked again, quieter now.

I turned my body to face him. His eyes soft in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah,” I said, and smiled. “I’m good.”

He traced my jaw with one finger, then he kissed my forehead, gentle, and pulled me closer.

I sank into the mattress and listened to the big, ragged drag of his breath.

I waited for him to move. For the mood to change. For him to suddenly remember this was supposed to be casual.

He didn’t.

Instead, his hand moved slowly over my back. “You sure you’re good?” he asked.

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”

“Sure?”

I lifted my head. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

“No.”

“Because you seem very concerned about your performance.”

His hand landed on my ass.

I squealed. “Bone!”

“Keep talking.”

I laughed and dropped my head back.

His hand moved away from my ass eventually, but his palm stayed draped over my side like he didn’t trust me not to roll off the bed.

I wondered if he could feel how fast my pulse was still racing beneath my skin. I knew I had to look like a complete mess.

I let out a shaky breath and sank deeper into the mattress.

I expected him to move. To roll away, grab his clothes, and turn what had just happened into exactly what it was supposed to be, a hot night between two people who wanted each other.