Page 114 of Lavish

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“No, you don’t.”

He kissed the inside of my knee. Then my thigh. Then dragged my leg up and over his shoulder, pressing in so deep I could feel him in my chest.

The headboard slammed again, louder this time, the obscene rhythm of it making my face flush and my body clench.

“Miles—” I gasped, but it came out as a moan.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered, voice rough and steady.

And God help me—I obeyed. My big, teary eyes locked on to his, wide and overwhelmed and glassy. He grinned when he saw the bliss painting my face, pure and unfiltered. That smug bastard. That beautiful, ruined man between my thighs.

He twitched inside me like crazy, cursed under his breath, and then started fucking me harder—deeper.

“Fuck, thaaaat’s it, baby,” he praised. “Feels good, hmm?”

“Please…I’m going—” I mumbled, eyebrows knitting together as I felt something bubbling up inside of me.

“Perfect size jus’ for you too,” he purred against my ear, his tongue flicking at the sensitive skin there, making me shiver even as my nails dug into his back. “Ain’t nobody else make you feel like this.”

How long had I been convincing myself that strength meant solitude? That power meant pushing everyone away before they had the chance to leave?

But now…with him all over me, inside me, whispering things he should never say but somehow meant every word—now, I wasn’t sure.

Maybe it wasn’t weak to need someone. Maybe it was brave.

Maybe it was brave to let him see me like this—raw and open and wrecked. Maybe I didn’t have to do this life alone.

“I can’t!” I cried out.

Miles was hitting medeep, and with a sloppy pivot of his hips, the angle got even deeper—obscene, dangerous. My mouth fell open, a silent cry scraping up my throat. I could see the sheen of sweat on his golden-brown skin, could feel how his body trembled as he pushed through it—through me.

“I know,” he murmured, out of breath, forehead pressed to mine. His strokes slowed, hips still grinding steady, so intentional I could barely take it. I was coming undone, unraveling like thread in his hands, and he wasright therewith me.

“You feel that?” he panted.

His mouth found my temple, pressed a kiss there so soft, so reverent it shattered me.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let go.”

My nails bit into his back. My thighs shook.

And then I shattered.

It tore through me, blinding and hot. My eyes squeezed shut as a scream punched out of my throat—half moan, half sob. My pussy clenched so tight around him I felt himjerk, and then he was groaning into my ear, stuttering inside me with a long, drawn-out curse.

I felt the condom throb with his release, heat pulsing into the latex as he rode it out, hips twitching, breath hitching. His bodycollapsed on top of mine for just a moment, his weight anchoring me. Grounding me.

And still, I held him there.

Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

I should’ve pushed him off. Should’ve let the moment end. But I didn’t.

Because in that silence—his breath mingling with mine, his lips brushing my cheek like he couldn’tnottouch me—I realized the truth.

I still loved him.