Fifty-Five
Six months later
Nathan
Sienna is sprawled across my bed, golden skin glowing under the moonlight streaming through the windows. My kingdom, my empire, but she’s the one who owns me.
She lies there, half-asleep, the sheet barely covering her curves. She’s my temptation and my torment all in one. I should let her rest, but I don’t. I can’t. Six months, and I still wake up every morning starving for her. Every time I touch her, it only makes me want her more.
My chest tightens with a raw, aching need as I prowl toward the bed.
Maybe she senses the shift in the air because her lashes flutter open, those blue eyes locking onto mine.
“Nathan,”
she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
I hum, trailing my fingers up her thigh. She shivers, her body arching instinctively toward my touch.
“You’re watching me again,”
she says softly.
“Hard not to.”
My palm glides higher. “You lie there looking like this, Sienna, and expect me to be a better man than I am?”
She exhales a laugh, her fingers grazing my jaw, her nails scraping gently. A tease. A challenge. “Maybe I like you just the way you are.”
Fuck.
I move before I can think, pinning her beneath me, one hand capturing her wrists above her head.
“You like me like this?”
I murmur, brushing my lips over her throat. “Like a man who can’t fucking control himself around you?”
She gasps, her thighs tightening around my waist. “Yes.”
That’s all I need.
I crush my mouth against hers, devouring her. It’s not careful. Not slow.
She moans into my mouth, arching up, dragging me closer. My grip tightens on her wrists, holding her there, making her take it.
I slide down her body, trailing my tongue over her ribs, down the dip of her stomach. She writhes, panting, and I haven’t even started yet.
I part her thighs, pressing my mouth to the soft heat between them.
She whimpers, back bowing off the bed as I flick my tongue.
“Nathan,”
she gasps.
I’ll never get enough of hearing my name like that.
I push two fingers inside her, curling just right, my tongue working her over until she’s trembling, falling apart.
She shatters, crying out my name, thighs squeezing around my head.
I don’t stop until I’ve taken everything she has to give.
Only when she’s shaking and breathless do I pull away, watching her struggle to come back to earth.
She barely registers me reaching into the dresser, the rustle of the condom wrapper distant through the fog of pleasure.
When I drag my cock through her slick heat, lining myself up, a tired moan scrapes from her throat.
I thrust inside her, slow and deep, a groan ripping from my chest at the feel of her gripping me. She pushes back against me, meeting every inch like she never wants me to leave.
I brace my hands on her hips. “That’s it, baby.”
Her body tenses, the cry of my name from her lips filling the room as she clenches around me.
I’m barely holding on, my control fraying by the second.
“Look at me,”
I tell her as her eyes flutter closed.
She does, and fuck, it undoes me.
I pull out and thrust back into her in one powerful stroke. Her legs wrap around me instinctively.
When I say it, it’s not for the first time, but I need her to hear it. To feel it.
“I love you,”
I rasp, driving deeper, claiming every inch of her.
Her breath hitches, her body tightening around me. She knows. She already knows.
I say it again anyway, because I need her to fucking believe it.
“I love you, Sienna.”
She chokes on a gasp, her fingers digging into the sheets.
I thrust harder, managing a small smile as I look down at her.
“I’ve loved you from the second you threw that damn napkin at me.”
She lets out a breathless, broken laugh, her body trembling beneath mine before I feel her tense around my cock.
She comes hard, her body gripping me so tight I swear I’m seeing stars.
I follow her over the edge, swearing her name, every muscle shaking.
When we both come back down, the only sound is our ragged breathing.
Then she whispers it back, soft but certain. “I love you too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Not because I don’t believe it, but because it still fucking wrecks me to hear it.
Pulling her against my chest, I bury my face in her hair.
Six months, and I’m completely addicted. Still hers. And I don’t give a damn who knows it.