Page 50 of Held-

“Is that good or bad?” she asks, a hint of vulnerability slipping through her bravado.

“It’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I tell her—and it’s the truth. I draw her into my arms, her warmth settling against my chest. “Say it again.”

“What part?” Her hands slide up my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“The part where you don't give a fuck what anyone thinks.”

She grins up at me, wicked and beautiful. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.” The curse rolls off her tongue with the ease of someone who’s been saying it her whole life, not just since I pulled her onto my bike.

“Christ, hearing you swear does things to me,” I growl, my hands finding her hips, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, standing there naked and unashamed, full of fire. My fire.

I walk her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed. She lets me guide her, never breaking eye contact. That mouth of hers—defiant, dirty, irresistible—is parted slightly like she’s waiting for what comes next.

“You know what else I want to hear from that mouth?” I ask.

She tilts her head, playing innocent. “What?”

I lean in close, letting her feel the heat of my breath against her ear. “I want to hear what you sound like when your dirty little mouth is put to work.”

She shivers, just slightly, but doesn't flinch. Doesn't back down.

“On what?” she asks, soft and sharp at the same time.

I grip her jaw gently, tilting her face toward mine. “On me.”

Her lips part, a flush creeping across her chest, and I feel her pulse pick up beneath my fingers. She’s breathing faster, but her gaze never drops. That’s what makes her irresistible.

“You gonna kneel for me, Cece?” I murmur, letting one hand trail down her body, slow and deliberate. “Gonna show me just how unholy that mouth of yours can be?”

Her breath hitches. “Only if you ask nicely.”

I let out a low, humorless chuckle, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “There’s nothing gentle about what I want from you right now.”

She bites her lip, then sinks to her knees in front of me without another word.

Her knees hit the floor with a soft thud, and I swear I forget how to breathe. And fuck me, nothing in my life has ever looked more like worship.

I've seen women on their knees before, plenty of them, but never like this. Never with that look in their eyes.

She holds my gaze as her fingers find my zipper, tugging it down with deliberate slowness. I should help her, should hurry this along, but I'm transfixed by the sight of her kneeling before me like I'm worth the sin.

“You just gonna stare?” she asks.

“Maybe.” I reach down, threading my fingers through her hair. “Maybe I enjoy seeing you this way.”

She smiles, wicked and sweet all at once. “And here I thought you wanted my mouth busy with something other than talking.”

“Oh, I do.” I tighten my grip on her hair, just enough to make her gasp. “But don't rush. We've got time.”

Her eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe. Like she expected me to be all demand and no patience, she doesn't know yet that I could watch her for hours, tracing every freckle, every scar, every perfect imperfection of her.

She tugs my jeans down, along with my boxers, and I spring free, already hard enough to hurt. Yeah, she remembers what it felt like inside her.

“Go on,” I murmur. “Show me what that mouth can do besides talk back.”

She licks her lips, a nervous gesture that makes my cock twitch. Then she leans forward, gaze still locked on mine, and wraps her lips around the head.