Page 89 of Golden Ruin

Her mouth falls open as her brows gather. “What the fuck?”

“You don’t want to hear it, but you are. Flighty as shit,” I say, doubling down. “You’re the queen of mixed signals.”

“I’m not sending mixed signals.”

“No? Then what’s this?” I ask, gesturing between us. “Earlier tonight, you didn’t want me near you, so I left you alone. Now, because you want to deal with shit, I’m supposed to be ready too. But that’s not how things work. You can’t just turn this off and on whenever you fucking feel like it.”

I’m disoriented, unsure when I got so deep into her space, but there’s hardly any room left to breathe. Her eyes are locked on mine, filled with all the things she’s too scared to say, and I don’t know how she stands it. I’m about to fucking explode, but she’s just so… calm.

Unaffected.

I feel myself about to break, on the verge of saying too much, so I step away again for both our sanity. But her hand is on my arm again, stopping me.

“Sterling, wait.”

Her breathing’s ragged, moving her chest up and down so quickly she’s practically panting, sliding a look from my eyes to my mouth, then back to my eyes. She lifts her hands, curling her fingers into my collar, then decides to say what she’s been holding back without using a single damn word.

I don’t move when our mouths connect, feeling the desperation as her body arches against mine, begging to be closer. I brace both hands on the door behind her, because I’m conditioned to hold back. But her?

She’s abandoning all sense of restraint.

Her hands are small and soft when they land on my chest, like she’s measuring every breath. Slowly, she slides both down to my stomach, then one moves lower, seeking. The sound of my belt being undone breaks the silence, and my breathing deepens. She tugs my zipper down next, so carefully I’m not sure she’ll go further. But that doubt gets erased the second she eases her fingers past the waistband of my boxers, tracing the raised skin of my tattoo where her name marks me.

She reaches lower and a sharp breath hisses between my teeth when her palm grazes my dick, skin on skin as she explores. The rhythm of our kiss gets lost in the intensity, and we give up trying. I rest my forehead against hers, sharing the same air as her breaths come rougher, faster, matching mine.

I get harder in her hand, remembering what it felt like to fuck her, what it felt like to own every inch of her body. When she was mine, the possessiveness I felt was dangerous, so intense I questioned my sanity sometimes. But that’s what she does to me.

Makes me fucking crazy.

She smooths her thumb over the tip of my cock, gripping a little tighter as she pushes her tongue inside my mouth.

How the fuck did we even get here?

She wanted space, so I gave it to her, now she’s pulling me right back in. But not even blinded with anger and frustration would I have said no to this. Because she’s my fucking weakness. The one person on this planet I can’t resist, and it terrifies me how much I missed this feeling.

She pulls her hand free, gripping both sides of my neck to bring me closer. It feels like my shirt’s in the way, so I shrug out of it without separating myself from her. It falls to the floor, and she squeezes my shoulders. A sound rumbles inside my chest. It’s primal and possessive as something takes over me.

“Sterling…”

Her thighs are soft and warm when I touch them, chasing every breath I take because they’re coming faster than I can catch them now. My name falls from her lips again. A raspy, addictive sound I could die listening to.

The silk of her panties meets my fingertips first, then heat. Slow and cautious, I ease the fabric aside, and my eyes clench tight at the feel of smooth, bare skin, wetness.

“Fuck, Lex.” My mouth grazes hers. “I’ve missed this so fucking much.”

She kisses my chin, my jaw, then drops her head to my shoulder as I trace her slit with one fingertip. A soft gasp leaves her when I push two fingers inside, feeling that sense of ownership taking over again. I pull back then push into her. Over and over again.

“Look at me.”

The words sound dark and desperate leaving my mouth, raw in a way that fits the moment. Her eyes are dim when they find mine, and I stare back. She’s out of it, gone, and I love that she’s losing control right in front of me.

Her head settles against my shoulder when she can’t take it anymore, and a strained “Fuck” warms the side of my neck.

My fingers are soaked when I pull them free to stroke her clit.

“Sterling.”

I’m anxious for her to come, but don’t rush. The slow and steady rhythm, the small gentle circles… it’s working. Her clit throbs softly against my fingertips, and my dick is rock solid. I kiss her because I can’t fucking help it, and as my mouth locks with hers, she whimpers, writhing against my hand as she comes, letting her nails bite into my shoulders as she falls apart.