Page 84 of Held-

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. He can hear me, right?.” Brayden slips a finger inside of me, and the answer I want to say disappears.

“I’ll take that as a yes…hey, guy who is distracting my best friend,” Maya calls out. “Thank you for finally getting my best friend laid! It was long overdue!”

“Maya!” I hiss, mortification washing over me.

Brayden laughs. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh shit. Girl…that voice. No wonder you fell into bed with him. Say something else.”

“Maybe another time, I really need to, um, go. Can I call you back later?”

“Definitely call me back,” Maya chirps. “With details. Lots and lots of details. I want to know everything about Mr. Sexy Voice.”

I stare at the ceiling, torn between laughing and dying from embarrassment. “Goodbye, Maya,” I say firmly, and end the call before she can protest further.

I drop the phone onto the nightstand and cover my face with my hands. “I'm so sorry about that.”

Brayden's fingers are still teasing me, making it hard to concentrate. “I like her already,” he murmurs, his mouth finding my neck again. “Anyone who wants you to get laid is good in my book.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, but it turns into something else entirely when he slides another finger inside me. “That's...not fair.”

“I warned you,” he reminds me, his breath hot against my skin. “Four minutes. And you went over.”

My hips rise to meet his touch of their own accord. “You're terrible.”

“That's not what your body is saying,” he whispers, his thumb circling my clit in a way that makes my toes curl. “It's saying I'm pretty fucking fantastic.”

I can't argue with that. My body is already wound tight, every nerve ending singing under his expert touch. The embarrassment of Maya's call fades, replaced by the burning need he always manages to ignite in me.

“Brayden,” I gasp.

His name slips out of me, a prayer shaped by need and devotion. I reach for more words, but they dissolve as his fingerswork their magic, drawing me closer to the edge with each deliberate stroke.

“You like that?” he asks.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Don't stop.”

His mouth finds mine, swallowing my gasp as he increases the pace of his fingers. I clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into skin, anchoring myself as pleasure builds inside me. The room fills with the sound of my ragged breathing and his occasional murmurs of encouragement.

“That's it,” he whispers against my lips. “Let go for me, princess.”

The heat coils tighter, a spring wound to breaking point. When he curls his fingers just so, hitting that perfect spot inside me while his thumb circles my clit, I shatter. My release crashes through me, my body shivering under his touch as his name slips from my lips again.

Before I can catch my breath, he's shifting above me, settling between my thighs. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, teasing but not entering.

“Please,” I whimper, desperate for him to fill me completely. I'm still sensitive from my orgasm, but I need him inside me, need to feel that perfect stretch and fullness that only he can give me.

He watches me with those stormy eyes, his jaw clenched with restraint. “Say my name again.”

“Brayden,” I breathe, lifting my hips to try to take him in.

“Again,” he growls, pushing just the tip inside me, enough to make me gasp but not enough to satisfy.

“Brayden, please,” I moan, my hands sliding down to grip his hips, trying to pull him deeper.