Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
I sat on the edge of Drew’s bed, watching him put Rory down for the night. He’d been quiet since his father left. Moving through the motions of dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories.
I wondered if he had any idea what a great dad he was already. That little girl was clearly smitten with him, and the way he doted on her made me love him even more.
Which brought my thoughts right back to the moment I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about all night.
But I hadn’t been able to bring it up to Drew because he was focused on his daughter, as he should be.
After his declaration, Rory had started crying upstairs and he’d rushed up to help her.
While I’d been left standing speechless, my heart hammering against my chest.
Now I couldn’t stop replaying that moment in my head.
But I love you more.
“Sweet dreams, little one,” Drew murmured, placing Rory in the small crib that sat on the wall opposite his bed.
She was out. Finally. It had taken longer than usual. Like she’d picked up on all the stress radiating through the house.
Drew stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep.
“Drew.” I kept my voice low. I’d learned that Rory had a tendency to sleep hard once she was out, but I didn’t want to risk it.
He turned toward me, and even though his shoulders still held some of the tension from the earlier conflict with his dad, his gaze was open and warm when he looked at me.
“Come here,” I whispered.
He lay down on his bed and positioned us so he was spooning me, our legs twined together and his arm slipping under my shirt to hold me tight against him. He nuzzled against my neck and let out a sigh.
“Fuck, I needed this. Just to hold you.”
I felt some of the tension leave his body as he settled against me, but my heart was still racing. I couldn’t let another moment pass without addressing what had happened downstairs.
“Drew?” I whispered, my fingers finding his where they rested against my rib cage.
“Hmm?”
I took a breath, gathering my courage. “Did you mean it?”
His arm tightened around me immediately, his body going still behind mine. The silence stretched between us for a heartbeat, and I could feel his breath warm against my neck.
“You mean when I said I love you,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
His voice was steady and sure. “Every word, Harper. I meant every fucking word.”
I needed to see his face. Carefully, I turned in his arms until we were facing each other in the dim light filtering in from the hallway. His eyes, dark and intense, found mine immediately.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “But it also scares me. I’ve never felt like this before, and I don’t want to get hurt.”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin. “I’ve got you. I would rip my own heart out before I hurt you, Harper.”
The conviction in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I surged forward, capturing his mouth with mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate—a collision of lips and tongue and pent-up emotion. I poured any fear I had into it, begging for his words to be true.
He groaned into my mouth, his hand sliding into my hair to hold me exactly where he wanted me. His other arm banded around my waist, crushing me against the hard planes of his body until I could feel the frantic beat of his heart against my own ribs.
When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against mine. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. “Please.”
“I love you,” I breathed, the words tasting like freedom and terror on my tongue. “I love you, Drew.”
A shudder ran through him, and he kissed me again, slower this time, deeper.
His tongue explored my mouth as if memorizing the taste of my confession.
His hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my skin as they traveled up my back.
He broke the kiss only long enough to yank the fabric over my head, tossing it aside.
His gaze raked over my bare skin, the look in his eyes so fiercely possessive it stole my breath.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his calloused fingertips tracing the curve of my shoulder, down my arm, then back up to brush the swell of my breast above my bra.
“So fucking beautiful.” He unhooked the clasp easily, the material falling away.
His breath hitched as he looked at me, his eyes darkening with pure, unadulterated hunger.
“Christ, Harper.” His thumb grazed my nipple, and I arched into his touch with a gasp.
“You’re like every fantasy I’ve ever had brought to life. ”
He shifted, kneeling on the bed, and his hands went to the button of my jeans. Our eyes locked as he slowly slid the zipper down. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, stripping me bare far more effectively than any removal of clothing could.
I’d never felt so vulnerable, yet never so certain I was safe. He would keep me safe.
He peeled the denim down my legs, taking my panties with them in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his stare as he drank me in.
“Perfect,” he breathed, reverence thick in his voice. “Every inch of you.” His lips brushed just below my navel, warm and soft, before trailing lower. My hips arched instinctively, reaching for more, only for his hand to press firmly against my stomach, holding me still. “Look at me, Harper.”
I forced my eyes open—I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them.
His hazel gaze held mine, unwavering, as his fingers traced a slow, sensual path down my stomach, through the trimmed curls at the apex of my thighs.
My breath caught in my throat, and anticipation coiled tight in my belly.
He didn’t look away, not for a second, as his fingers found my wet heat.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Always so fucking wet for me.” His gaze pinned me as surely as his body could have. His index finger slid through my slick folds, gathering moisture and circling my entrance without pushing in.
He was such a tease sometimes.
But I couldn’t deny the way his strokes unraveled me, pulling a whimper from my throat as my hips lifted off the mattress.
“Patience, baby,” he murmured, his thumb finding my clit. He pressed down in a slow, taunting circle. “I want to savor this.”
He held my gaze, his eyes burning into mine as he finally slid one finger inside me. My inner muscles clenched around him instantly, a gasp tearing from my lips.
He kissed me hard, then pulled back just enough to whisper, “Keep quiet for me, Harper. If Rory wakes up, I have to stop. Don’t make me stop.”
The plea in his voice tangled with the fire of his touch, winding me up tighter and tighter until I was biting my lip to make sure no sound escaped. He watched my face, studying every flicker of sensation that crossed it as he began to move his finger in and out with agonizing slowness.
The intimacy was overwhelming. It wasn’t just physical—it felt like he was reaching into the deepest, most hidden parts of me. I couldn’t look away even if I’d tried.
“Good?” he asked, his voice a low rasp. His thumb circled my clit again, applying perfect pressure.
“Y-yes,” I managed, the word breaking on a quiet moan as he crooked his finger inside me, finding that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Taking my finger so perfectly. So fucking tight.” He added a second finger, stretching me slowly, watching my face intently.
His thumb never stopped its relentless, perfect circles.
“That’s it, baby. Let me feel you.” His voice dropped lower, rougher.
“Let me feel how much you want this. How much you want me.”
I was trembling, lost in the dual assault of sensation and his unwavering gaze. Pleasure built, hot and relentless, winding through me until I was trembling on the edge. My hips moved against his hand, seeking more friction, more depth. “Drew…please.”
“Please what, gorgeous?” His thumb pressed harder, circling faster. “Tell me.”
“I-I need…” Words failed me. The pressure was immense, the connection terrifyingly deep. Tears pricked my eyes, as I was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of feeling—physically and emotionally.
“Need to come?” he supplied, his voice dark and knowing. His fingers thrust deeper, curling perfectly. “Come for me, Harper. Let me see you fall apart. Look at me while you do it.”
His command, the possessiveness in his voice combined with the relentless pressure of his thumb and the deep thrust of his fingers, shattered me.
My back arched off the bed as I bit down on my lip, smothering the sound that tried to escape.
My gaze locked helplessly with his as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
I convulsed around his fingers, my vision blurring, but I didn’t break eye contact.
He watched my climax with fierce concentration, his own breath coming in ragged gasps, as if he was feeling every tremor that rocked my body.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his fingers still moving inside me, drawing out the aftershocks until I was whimpering, oversensitive and boneless. “So fucking beautiful when you come for me.”
He slowly withdrew his fingers, and I watched, mesmerized, as he brought them toward my face instead of his own mouth like he’d done in the past. It was no secret that tasting me drove him wild. His eyes were dark with desire but tender at the same time.
“I want you to taste how perfect you are,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. “Open that sweet mouth for me.”
My heart hammered against my chest. Did I want to taste myself? It wasn’t something I’d ever considered before, but with Drew watching me like that, it felt intoxicating.
Dangerous.
And God help me, I wanted it.
I nodded, my lips parting slightly.