Page 190 of Lost Lyrebird

“Nuh-uh.You need to appreciate all the effort I put in before you rip this dress off me.”

“Is that right?”He licks his bottom lip, his gaze dragging over me slowly, pausing on the curve of my thighs.

“I did go to a lot of effort.”I lean against the door frame, crossing my legs.

He groans—low, guttural, barely contained—and bites down on his thumb, eyes locked on the lace of my thigh-highs.He eyes me with pure hunger, like he’s fighting the urge to pounce.“Jesus!Look at you.”

I smirk, but I can feel the tension rising.My bones tremble under my skin, vibrating like a tuning fork at his nearness.

“What’s wrong, baby?”I ask, my voice coming out sweet and sugary.“You seem a little…” I shrug, “on edge.”

“You have no fucking idea,” he rasps.Getting up slowly, he takes his time striding toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.He leans over me, plants his arm bent above my head.“You don’t know what you do to me, Lil’.”

Smirking, I say saucily, “Maybe I do.”Every inch of me is pulled tight, coiled, waiting.My heart is racing like I just ran a few laps, and there’s a good possibility I might go off like a Roman candle the moment he touches me.

When he entered rehab, I agreed to his “no sex” rule—no sex with anyone else ever again, and none with each other until he finished the program.He said not until he felt like himself again.

So the last few weeks have been a lesson in patience.

That doesn’t mean we kept our hands to ourselves.No.If his time in rehab taught me anything, it was how intoxicating and thrilling restraint can be—and it gave me a thorough education on what those muscles are capable of.I also relearned a few things about foreplay and found all the ways you could bend the rules without actually breaking them.

Thankfully, the “no sex” rule has flown out the window.We’re finally free to do what we want.

No more rules.

No more barriers.

I reveal the dog tags, drag them down, and slip one between my breasts.The other hangs beside it, there for his viewing pleasure.

At the sight of them, the heat in his eyes turns molten.The tension builds until the air hums—crackling between us.I let the moment stretch.Let it simmer.

Then I reach out and toy with the buttons of his shirt.He visibly shudders beneath my touch.Not stopping there, I drag my nails down his chest, skimming over those newly defined abs.I take a second to appreciate the work he’s put in, then hook a finger into his belt, give it a quick, deliberate yank—and unlatch it.

He raises an eyebrow.“It’s like that, huh?”

“Yes.I was under the impression that the no sex rule is ancient history.Was I wrong?”

“If it weren’t, it would have been obliterated the second you walked in wearing this outfit.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The corner of his mouth hikes up as he fishes the dog tag free from my cleavage.His grip slides up the chain until it tightens around my neck, giving him the leverage he needs to draw me closer.His blue eyes burn with need as they travel over my face.

“Just wanted to get a good, long look first before I make a mess out of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice husky.

I smile wickedly.“Go right ahead.”

“Give me those goddamn lips, Woman,” he growls.Using the chain, he tugs me forward.His lips crash against mine, leaving me no other option than to surrender to him.I melt against his body and let myself get lost for a moment in the way he makes me feel.

The kiss is filthy—raw, unrestrained need.His tongue tangles with mine, coaxing, dominating, devouring.I moan and let my hands explore his chest like they’re learning a second language.He bites my bottom lip, then sucks it into his mouth, groaning when I whimper.

When he finally breaks away, we’re both breathless.He rests his forehead against mine, one hand still on the chain, the other cradling my face.

“You fuckin’ wreck me, baby.And god, I missed you.”