Page 94 of Hold Me Tight

“You’re the gorgeous one,” he murmurs, climbing onto the mattress. The bed dips beneath his weight, and the second he reaches me, our gazes find each other and cling. There’s nothing playful about his expression.

It’s heated and raw.

“All the nights I spent dreaming about you didn’t do you justice,” he says, lips brushing over mine.

It’s the kind of kiss that makes your heart ache. Then he deepens the caress until it becomes slow and searching. Our tongues meet and tangle. I moan into his mouth as he devours me like a man starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy his hunger.

When he finally pulls back, I’m trembling with the need to be claimed.

Even though he must sense my desperation, he doesn’t rush a single moment. His mouth drifts lower, kissing the underside of my jaw and then the delicate hollow of my throat. I don’t think about tipping my head back and baring my neck.

I just do it.

A silent offering.

He lingers there, bathing my pulse with open-mouthed kisses that make my skin prickle and my toes curl. His lips trail down to my collarbone as his hands glide over my body like he wants to take as much time as necessary to learn me.

When he palms my breasts, I arch into his hold, needing more. He cups me, his fingers teasing the sensitive peaks until they’re stiff and aching.

And when he finally takes me into his mouth, I feel everything.

Not just the arousal or heat, but the tenderness.

The worship.

I arch against him as he draws one tight bud into his mouth, sucking before pulling it deeper with a languid stroke of his tongue. Heat zips down my spine. My fingers slide into his hair, holding him in place.

A low groan breaks loose from him, and the sound vibrates against my skin before he releases me with a soft pop. His mouth trails to the other peak, and he lavishes it with just as much care. He licks and teases my body until I’m trembling beneath him.

And then he’s on the move and sliding lower.

Each kiss he plants is like a silent promise that this time will be different. That I am different. That I’m wanted, not just for how I look or what I can offer, but for every fragile part of me too.

By the time River settles between my thighs, I’m already shaking.

He pushes my legs wider, coaxing them open with hands that are equal parts strong and gentle. When his eyes lift to mine, the force of his gaze pins me in place. I feel seen in a way I never have been before.

His thumb strokes through my slick heat, the pad circling with deliberate pressure. A shiver slides through me as my hips twitch.

“Did I mention just how beautiful you are?” His voice is thick with desire.

“Pretty sure you did,” I say on a gasp as he continues stroking me, this time more firmly. A sharp jolt of pleasure zings through my body.

His gaze holds mine. “I don’t ever want you to doubt just how much I desire you.”

How could I?

When his every touch tells me exactly that.

This man makes me feel like I’m the only woman who’s ever existed.

When his thumb circles my clit, my legs fall open wider, my body accepting him without hesitation. I don’t even try to fight it.

His gaze drops to my drenched center. “Do you like when I play with your pussy?”

I manage a shaky, “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He leans in, thumb still circling. “I want you so addicted to my touch that you ache for it. For what only I can give you.”