49. You’ll See
You'll See
Natalia
Kiri’s hands slide beneath me before I realize what he’s doing.
My stomach drops as he lifts me against his chest, one arm beneath my knees, the other firm around my back.
I grab his shoulders on instinct, staring at him while he carries me through the penthouse.
The bedroom beyond the open doors is ridiculous.
Gold light. An enormous bed dressed in white.
Windows spilling Los Angeles across the dark. I barely see any of it.
All I see is him.
“You know I have feet,” I whisper against his mouth.
His eyes burn into mine.
“You won’t be able to walk soon.” His grip tightens beneath me. “I’ll be your personal courier for the evening.”
I gasp in mock outrage against his lips and smack his arm. His laugh rolls through his chest and into mine.
“That sounds ambitious, even for you.”
“You’ll see.”
He lowers me onto the edge of the bed with complete gentleness, because the same man who knocked Julian Mercer unconscious is afraid of setting me down too hard.
Then he steps between my knees and the laughter disappears.
His hands find the fastening of my dress, patient despite the way his breathing has changed.
He loosens it carefully, drawing the fabric upward while I lift my arms. He drops the dress somewhere behind him.
Kiri stops. His gaze moves over the black lace covering that remains, but he doesn’t look greedy. He looks shaken, like he spent weeks imagining this, getting to see me and have me in the same night, and still wasn’t prepared for the reality. Heat spreads across my skin beneath his attention.
“What?” I ask, because the silence is unbearable.
His eyes lift to mine.
“You.”
One word. It lands harder than any practiced compliment could have. He lowers himself slowly, one knee, then the next until he's eye-level in front of me.
Kiri Chhim on his knees.
The sight sends something electric racing through my body. He reaches behind me without breaking eye contact, fingers finding the clasp of my bra. The lace loosens, but he takes his time removing it, letting anticipation stretch until every inch of newly exposed skin feels hypersensitive.
His hands travel down my sides, gentle but certain.
When his fingers catch the edges of the lace at my hips, my breath falters.
He’s already had his face buried between my thighs.
This shouldn’t feel like some kind of ceremony, but it does.
It’s the care he gives every small step, like none of this is something to rush through on the way to what comes next.
He makes being undressed feel sacred. Makes me feel special before he’s even finished taking everything off.
Heat gathers between my legs at the thought of what he’ll do once he does.
He notices. Kiri misses nothing, especially when he’s touching me.
He draws the lace down with excruciating patience, watching my face as it slips over my thighs, catches briefly at my knees, then trails along my calves.
By the time I lift each foot and step free, the slow drag of fabric has turned every inch of skin alive to the slightest touch.
The sensation sparks through me, setting every nerve alight.
I’ve never been so aware of my own body.
Never felt anticipation burn this hot beneath my skin. Nothing before has ever felt like this.
He lingers between my legs after pulling away the last scrap of lace, and for a second, he just looks.
His eyes drag over every inch of me, and suddenly I’m way too aware that I am completely naked and spread open in front of him.
I try to close my thighs self-consciously, but his hands stop me.
He gently presses them apart again, palms warm and firm against my skin, thumbs sliding upward along the softness of my skin.
His hands travel higher until he reaches my waist, gripping me tightly. He lifts his eyes to mine.
“This is what I want, Nat.” His voice drops around the words. “Every part of you. Don’t hide any of it from me.”
Heat rushes through me so fast my toes curl against the floor.
My back arches beneath the weight of his attention, and I open wider for him on instinct, every inch of me exposed and burning because he refuses to look away.
He bends over me, his mouth tracing a slow path along my collarbone before closing around one nipple.
His tongue circles it in teasing little swirls, then his teeth catch just enough to send goosebumps racing over my skin.
He travels between my breasts, down the center of my body, each kiss dragging anticipation lower until I can barely breathe around it.
One hand spreads over my stomach, laying me gently against the mattress while the other keeps me open to him.
My voice breaks on his name. He looks up, watching my face as though every reaction belongs to him now.
Then his mouth finally reaches the place I’ve been aching for.
His patience snaps with a sudden urgency, both hands grabbing my thighs as he pulls me closer and hooks my legs over his shoulders, his tongue pressing into me.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
My nails rake across his shoulders, catching against muscle as I arch toward him. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
So does my body.
He returns his eyes to mine. The heat in them nearly finishes me by itself.
I push closer, asking without words. He gives me exactly what I want.
Pleasure flashes through me as I clutch at his shoulders, his name escaping again, louder, before I can soften it.
His mouth stays against my core while his tongue grows more certain, following every movement of my body as though he already understands its language.
He treats every breath, every shiver, every helpless movement like worshipping me is the only thing he came here to do.
Beneath all of it is the knowledge that changes everything, the thought of what’s still coming, it's enough to send me racing toward the edge before he’s even really started.
He's mine tonight.
This won’t end with another almost. I’ll finally know what it feels like to have all of him.