23. Chapter 23
Her back nestled perfectly into his chest, her hips shifting slightly in sleep, her breath slow and even. And fuck—he was already hard, thick and aching, caught against the curve of her ass with nowhere to go.
He clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply through his nose.
Don’t wake her up. Don’t be that guy.
But Jesus Christ, this was torture.
The heat of her body, the slow rise and fall of her breath, the way she moved just the tiniest bit against him—completely unconscious, completely unaware of how close she was to breaking him.
His fingers twitched against her stomach, where his arm had instinctively curled around her sometime in the night. He should move. Roll away. Give himself some space. But instead, his grip tightened, just slightly, his palm flattening against the curve of her waist.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
Every inch of her was temptation.
The scent of her—warm, clean, faint traces of the lotion she’d smoothed over her skin sometime yesterday.
The way her tank top had ridden up in sleep, exposing a stretch of bare skin just above the waistband of her panties.
The slow, unconscious roll of her hips when she shifted deeper into his warmth.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself still.
She was exhausted. She’d worked herself to the bone all week, barely eating, barely sleeping, barely keeping her shit together until tonight, when she finally let go—when she let him take care of her.
And now she was here, soft and trusting and deeply asleep in his arms.
And he was barely holding on.
His breathing was shallow, his body tight with restraint, his cock throbbing against the small of her back. It would be so easy—too easy—to tilt his hips forward, to shift just enough for friction, to chase the relief that was dangling in front of him like a goddamn carrot.
But Heath wasn’t about to be that guy.
He pressed his forehead into the back of her shoulder, gritting his teeth, forcing his thoughts to anything else.
Sandbag runs.
Cold ocean dips.
All the ways Adam would kick his ass if he knew Heath was lying here, hard as fucking steel, with a sleeping woman curled against him like she belonged there.
He exhaled roughly.
Fucking relax, Carrington.
After another long, painful minute, he shifted back—just enough to put some space between them, to keep himself from going insane.
But before he could fully pull away, Maddie made a small sound—half a sigh, half a sleepy protest—and pressed right back into him.
Right against his aching, straining cock.
He let out a quiet, strangled groan, closing his eyes.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He was going to die here. Right here in this bed, tortured to death by a woman who didn’t even know what she was doing to him.
But hell, if this was how he went out… there were worse ways to die.
Maddie shifted in her sleep, rolling onto her back with a quiet sigh. The space where her body had been pressed against him was suddenly empty, but before Heath could even process the loss, she stirred again—turning her face toward his, blinking up at him in the dim light.
A slow, drowsy smile tugged at her lips.
She reached for him, fingers brushing along his jaw, her touch soft but certain. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.
And that was it. That was all it took.
Something inside him snapped.
She was awake.
It’s go time.
He was on her in an instant, surging forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was nothing short of wild.
Raw. Fierce. His hand cupped her jaw, his fingers threading into her hair as he devoured her, as if he could drink her in, consume her, own every sigh, every gasp, every shudder that trembled through her.
Maddie moaned into his mouth, her hands skimming down his shoulders, pressing against the firm lines of his chest. She arched up, meeting him halfway, opening for him as his tongue swept against hers, deep and demanding.
His body was coiled tight, held together by sheer willpower, but fuck—he was holding back. He was trying to keep himself in check, to go slow, to make this last—but then she was pulling him closer, her legs tangling with his, her nails digging into his skin.
And she knew.
She could feel the way he was barely restraining himself.
Her lips parted, breathless. “Heath…”
He gritted his teeth, pressing his forehead to hers, fighting for control.
“Don’t,” she whispered, fingers sliding down his stomach, nails scraping just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold back.”
His body locked up.
“Let me have it all,” she whispered. “Give me that big cock.” She reached down and palmed the length of his rock hard cock.
A dark growl rumbled up from his chest. Heat exploded in his veins, fire licking through every nerve.
He kissed her harder, deeper, his hands sliding beneath her tank top, fingers dragging over the soft heat of her skin as he pushed it up, over her ribs, over her head, tossing it aside.
Next were her panties—quickly he flicked them off, throwing them straight across the room.
His mouth followed, trailing down the column of her throat, dragging across her collarbone, biting at the delicate skin there before soothing it with his tongue.
Maddie gasped, her back arching, her body offering itself to him, and fuck—he took it.
He mounted her, pushing her legs open for him.
His hands were everywhere—gripping, squeezing, owning—pulling her hips against him so she could feel just how hard she’d made him.
His cock found the wet entrance to her pussy, demanding entry.
She was already wrecked for him, chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm, pupils blown wide, lips parted.
“Heath,” she breathed. “Now.”
And he drove his cock up—burying himself inside a pussy he was damn near addicted to.
Heath growled against her lips, pressing her deeper into the mattress as his body caged hers beneath him. His weight, his strength—she felt every inch of him, every ripple of tension and restraint unraveling at once.
But restraint was dead.
She wanted all of him.
So she was going to get it.
With one swift motion, he hiked her legs up around his waist, wrapping her tight around him as he braced his forearm beneath the curve of her spine, lifting her up just enough—just enough to own her, to pull her exactly where he needed her.
His other hand gripped the headboard, fingers biting into the wood as his control snapped completely.
Maddie gasped, her nails dragging down his back, her body arching to him, against him, for him.
“Fuck, Heath,” she panted, eyes wild, hands roaming, desperate. “Is that all you’ve got?”
His head snapped up, amber eyes flashing.
She was taunting him.
Egging him on.
Daring him.
Dangerous fucking game, baby.
His fingers dug into her waist, holding her steady as he pulled back, just enough to watch her reaction, just enough to let her feel what was coming.
And then—
He slammed back into her.
Maddie cried out, her hands flying up, gripping onto anything—his shoulders, the sheets, his wrist still braced on the headboard.
Heath’s jaw was clenched tight, his breath coming in sharp, controlled exhales, but fuck—she wasn’t helping, not when she clenched around him like that, not when she was moaning his name like she owned him.
Because maybe she did.
Maybe she fucking did.
He leaned in, catching her mouth in a bruising kiss, biting at her lower lip before growling, “You wanna test me, baby? You wanna see how rough I can be?”
She gasped against him, legs tightening around his waist, nails dragging up his chest. “Yeah, Senior Chief—I want all of it.”
He let out a low, dark laugh, the sound vibrating against her throat as he kissed down, sucking, biting, leaving marks.
Marks that wouldn’t fade for days.
“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble,” he murmured against her skin.
She tangled her fingers into his hair, yanking his head back just enough to meet his gaze. “Maybe I want trouble.”
Fucking hell.
Something primal snapped inside him.
His grip on the headboard tightened, knuckles whitening as he fucked her harder, his free hand tightening on her hip, holding her right where he wanted her.
She arched beneath him, back bowing, body trembling, her breathy moans growing louder, needier.
“You take everything I give you,” he ground out, his voice rough, possessive. “Every fucking thing, you hear me?”
Maddie whimpered, nodding frantically, eyes blown wide, fingers gripping the muscles in his arms. “Yes—yes, Heath—”
His hips snapped harder, deeper. “Not done with you yet, baby. Not even close.”
She gasped, clawing at him, wrecked and desperate. “You gonna make me feel it? Or is this all you have?”
“Goddamn right you’re going to feel it,” he muttered.
She tried to speak, tried to say something—but he wasn’t done making her beg. Not yet.
Maddie had dared him. Had taunted him.
And now?
She was about to feel exactly what she asked for.
With a rough growl, he wrenched her hips higher, forcing her back against the mattress, her legs locked tight around his waist as he slammed into her, dragging a sharp, breathless cry from her lips.
She gasped, hands clawing at him, at the sheets, at anything that could ground her as he drove into her with enough force to make the bedframe shudder against the wall.
“Jesus—Heath—”
“Yeah, baby?” His voice was low, dangerous, his grip biting into her thighs as he buried himself inside her. “This what you wanted?”
Maddie arched, her nails sinking into his biceps. “Yes—”
He pulled out, slow. Deliberate. Making her feel every inch of him as he dragged back, as he denied her what she wanted.
She whimpered.
Fucking whimpering.
And Heath lost it.
His hand slid up, wrapping around her throat—not squeezing, just holding her there, owning her. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice thick, commanding.
“You beg for it.”
Her breath hitched, eyes dark with heat, her entire body trembling against him.
“Heath—”
“Try again.”
Her lips parted, chest rising and falling fast, her pulse pounding under his thumb.
She licked her lips.