Page 45 of Hold Me Instead (Elmwood Falls #1)

“What? Yes. I’m so okay.” She pulled at the bottom buttons of his shirt and slipped her hands beneath his undershirt, the feel of his warm skin against her energizing. To feel it against her body would be…

She gasped, his hands trailing under her shirt and up. She raised her arms, and Zachary slipped the top over her head and tossed it to the floor. She shivered and finished his buttons, shoving at the shoulders until the sleeves slid from his body.

“So…many…layers!” she griped, grabbing the hem of his undershirt to tug it off. “Ugh, I don’t even want winter to come, that’ll mean more.” She slammed her mouth against his, smoothing her hands over his pecs, his ribs, around his back.

Zachary laughed against her lips, then trailed kisses down her neck to her chest, slowing over the swells of her breasts.

His hands reached behind her, finding the clasp of her bra, and freed her from the restraint.

He guided the straps down her arms with extreme patience, bit his lip as he tossed the bra aside.

His hands kneaded her breasts, taking his time.

Fingers brushed her nipples, then pinched them lightly.

Charlie moaned, the sound growing as Zachary crashed forward, his mouth capturing one nipple, fingers working the other. She arched her back, gripped his head to hold him against her.

Her body was on fire. She reached for his jeans, scooting back on his thighs to give herself room as she tugged at the button and zipper.

Her hand found his boxer briefs, and she slid her palm down, his hard length straining.

Zachary’s breath hitched, an arm tightening around her waist. Then she was on her back, pressed into the couch cushions, as Zachary kneeled over her.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he said .

She whimpered, the loss of his mouth on her, her hands on him, too much.

He kissed her, tongue diving into her mouth, hands splayed over her body.

His fingers trailed along her stomach, tracing lower between her thighs.

Her heart raced, but then his hand was on the move again.

After two more rounds of the same, she realized he wasn’t going to go any further unless she wanted him to.

And she wanted him to. Wanted release, from him.

She held his hand in place when it once again flirted between her thighs. He stared at her, their breaths heavy. She nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please. Touch me,” she whispered.

“Fuck,” he said, his forehead falling to her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “You won’t. Just…go slow.”

He lifted his head and nodded. Then he kneeled beside the couch, a sly grin forming. “Oh, I can go slow.”

She bit her lip, the tease as hot as it was concerning because she had no doubt this man could make her beg.

Carefully, his eyes monitoring her every breath, Zachary undid her jeans and tugged them down, the well-worn denim harsh against her sensitive skin.

His hands slid up, with a squeeze to her calves, then thighs.

His thumbs grazed over the edge of her plain berry bikini-cut underwear.

Did not think this far ahead . These are so boring .

He grinned. “Perfect color for you.” His thumbs skimmed the fabric, right over her clit, seeming to emphasize his point.

Charlie arched from the couch with a gasp .

He pressed kisses to her thighs, on the inside of her legs, over her hips, slowly working his way up until he was back at her breasts, tongue swirling over her nipples, making her crazy with want.

Every inch of her was tingling, the brush of his chest against her causing rippling shocks through her body.

“God, Zachary,” she breathed.

“Mmm,” he hummed over her breast.

His hand worked its way down, brushing over the only scrap of fabric left. The touch was featherlight, back and forth, until she was squirming, whimpering. She held her breath as he finally slipped the fabric off her legs.

He groaned, his hands sliding back up her legs with deep, firm squeezes. His eyes took in her bare pussy, a grooming routine she’d started in recent years as another way to reconnect with her body. His excitement as he took in every inch of her turned her on even more.

He squeezed his tall frame onto the edge of the cushions, his body stretched out beside her. She started to turn toward him, but he held her there.

“Tonight, I’m going to touch you,” he whispered, his fingers doing the featherlight dance again. “We’ll go from there. Okay?” He trailed his kisses to her neck, and she hummed in reply.

He traced over her smooth skin, groaning as his touch got closer and closer to really feeling her.

To discovering how wet she already was. She panted, grabbed for him, fingers slipping into his hair and tugging lightly, his grunt of approval spurring her on.

Her legs rubbed together, and his hand squeezed between her, the need for pressure growing.

“God, Zachary, please,” she pleaded.

His finger reached her slit, gliding slowly, and they both groaned .

“You’re so wet,” he said, voice low.

She could only whimper in reply.

The tip pressed in.

“Yes,” she whispered. No pain . “Hold there a minute,” she whispered.

“Anything,” he grumbled. He bent forward and sucked her neck.

She gasped, relaxing even as he wound her up. “Okay, a little more.”

He pushed his finger farther, pausing when she put her hand on his. “You alright?”

She nodded. His thumb skimmed her clit in response, and she arched her hips off the couch. “Mmm.” The hum of pleasure grew into a chuckle.

“Feel good?” he asked with a sly grin.

“Oh yes.” She gasped as he did it again, then lightly pressed his hand. “More, Zachary.”

His nostrils flared, and he eased farther into her. Her breath shook.

No involuntary muscle creating a wall.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears pricking. All she felt was need .

He continued, intent on her face, and she felt his finger deep inside her. He twitched it, and she quivered, her eyes locking on his.

“Oh, fuck,” she said.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he said, slamming his mouth to hers.

He pumped his finger in and out of her slowly, eventually adding another at her plea. When his thumb paid attention to her clit again, she went off, her body tightening around him as the orgasm pulsed through her.

She gasped for breath. When she opened her eyes, Zachary slipped his fingers into his mouth, gaze on her, and sucked .

“Holy shit,” she breathed out.

She pounced on him, throwing her body on top of his and knocking him back on the carpet. She removed his jeans completely, his underwear following.

Her hand gripped his shaft, sliding up and down, and her lips went right after.

Zachary cried out.

She hummed, overcome with desire, her fist working below her mouth as she slid up and down him, her tongue swirling the tip. In the past, she never looked forward to this. It was expected—in her experience—but with Zachary, she couldn’t wait to taste him.

“Fuck,” Zachary whispered, then pulled her up toward him. “Not tonight,” he groaned, as her hand continued to touch.

“Oh, not at all?” she asked, hand frozen in place.

“What? No this is good, just not—” He groaned, because she immediately resumed.

She straddled his leg, getting the chance to watch him overcome with pleasure.

“God, Charlie, I can feel how wet you are. So warm.”

She wiggled against his thigh, pleased at his groan, one hand on his shaft as the other teased his balls.

“Fuck. Charlie.”

His body tightened, and Charlie watched him cum, a pleasure she gave him that she wanted to repeat over and over again.

In many ways.

They cleaned up, and she settled into Zachary’s side, nestled against his chest. He tugged her leg over him and covered them with the blanket. His hand toyed with her hair while her thumb traced his warm skin .

“How are you?” he whispered.

She smiled against him. “Amazing,” she whispered back. He squeezed her, and she adjusted to look at him. “Happy. I might cry later, from relief? Right now, though, I am just so, so happy. Thank you,” she ended on another whisper.

He lifted his head and kissed her gently, his hand cupping her cheek. When she nestled back against him, he added one more kiss to her forehead.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Let’s not move, ever.”

“Okay.”

“I’m glad we agree.” He chuckled adoringly.

They cuddled in comfortable silence, the minutes passing.

“So how was your Thanksgiving?”

He laughed. “What, are you hungry?”

“No. Hm, maybe. But you mentioned earlier everyone was getting a little restless.”

“Yeah, well.” His finger trailed her back. “Mom and Sandra both cooked enough to feed the neighborhood. They wanted to make the day special, since Dad was doing better…What?”

Charlie had popped her head up as he spoke. “Weird. Brooke was the same way. Cooked a shit ton of food. Definitely was using it as a distraction, we found out later.” She bit her lip. “She caught her husband with another woman.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She put her head back down, her pointer finger learning his chest. She wiggled closer to him, his body comforting, until she felt him harden against her.

“Just ignore it,” he murmured .

She grinned, lifted her head to look at him again. Then kissed him lightly, over and over.