Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Summer
Malcolm and I barely made it through the front door before he attacked—his fingers digging into my sides, a wicked grin spreading across his face as I let out a startled shriek.
"Malcolm!" I gasped, squirming helplessly as he relentlessly tickled my ribs. "Stop! You know I hate?—"
"You were making fun of me earlier," he said smugly, ignoring my protests as his hands moved faster.
I gasped between helpless giggles, trying to twist away, but he was too strong, too determined. "Okay, okay! I take it back!"
His fingers stilled, his grin triumphant, but he still held me trapped against him.
I was breathless, my skin tingling, my heart hammering for more reasons than just laughter.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, amusement flickering into something hotter, deeper.
"You’re mine now," Malcolm murmured, his voice gravelly, possessive. "No more running, no more pretending. Just us."
I swallowed hard, my pulse skittering under the intensity of his gaze. "Just us," I whispered.
And then he kissed me.
His lips claimed mine, slow at first—a tease, a taste, like he was savoring the moment. But then I tilted my head, pressing closer, and that was all it took.
Malcolm let out a low groan, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against mine with deliberate, torturous slowness. His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and heat coiled low in my stomach.
A soft whimper escaped me, and Malcolm reacted instantly, lifting me onto the kitchen counter, his body pressing firmly between my thighs.
"You drive me insane," he rasped against my lips, his breathing ragged as he trailed kisses down my jaw, to the sensitive spot on my neck.
I tilted my head back, giving him access, shivering as his lips ghosted over my pulse point. "Then you must really love me," I teased breathlessly.
Malcolm chuckled, his teeth nipping at my skin, making me gasp. "More than I know how to say."
My heart skipped, but before I could respond, his hands slid under my dress, his fingers tracing slow, torturous patterns along my bare thighs.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands clutching his shoulders, but he didn’t rush. He took his time—exploring, teasing, making me feel every touch, every brush of his fingertips.
Desire curled hot and tight inside me, and when I tugged at his shirt, he obliged—shrugging it off effortlessly, revealing his toned chest, the hard planes of muscle that I wanted to trace with my tongue.
Malcolm smirked. "Like what you see?"
I rolled my eyes, but my fingers were already skimming over his skin, memorizing the feel of him.
"You’re ridiculously attractive, and you know it," I muttered.
He chuckled, kissing me again, but this time, it was rougher, needier—like he was done teasing, like he needed more.
I clutched his shoulders tighter, arching into him, desperate for closer, for friction, for him.
"Bedroom," he muttered against my lips, his voice strained.
"You’re the one who started this in the kitchen," I shot back, grinning breathlessly.
Malcolm growled playfully, then lifted me into his arms, making me squeal in surprise as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
"Malcolm—"
But he was already carrying me toward the bedroom, his lips never leaving mine.
By the time we reached the bed, our clothes had disappeared piece by piece, leaving us bare against each other, skin to skin.
Malcolm hovered over me, his dark gaze drinking me in, like he was memorizing every inch of me.
"You’re perfect," he whispered, his hand brushing over my stomach, up to my chest, lingering at my throat before tilting my chin up for another deep kiss.
A shiver ran through me. "So are you," I murmured.
His lips curved into a smirk, but then he was moving again, trailing kisses down my body, worshipping every part of me like I was something sacred, something only his.
And when he finally entered me, a gasp tore from my lips, my fingers gripping his back, pulling him deeper, closer, wanting everything he had to give.
Malcolm groaned, burying his face against my neck, his breathing uneven as he moved with slow, torturous precision.
"Summer," he whispered, like my name was the only thing keeping him grounded.
I arched into him, my legs tightening around his waist, meeting every movement, every thrust, feeling everything.
It was slow at first, a tease, a promise, but then something shifted, and it became more desperate, more raw.
And when we finally unraveled together, his name fell from my lips like a prayer, while his own was whispered against my skin like a vow.
A vow to never let go.
For a long moment, we just lay there, breathing hard, tangled in each other, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of our hearts.
Then, his lips brushed my temple, his fingers tracing lazy patterns down my spine.
"Is it real now?" he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with something unshakable.
I smiled sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
"Yeah," I whispered. "It’s real."
Malcolm exhaled, his arms tightening around me, as if he never wanted to let go.
"Good," he murmured, kissing the top of my head. "Because I never planned to let you go anyway."