Page 27 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

I grab her wrists gently and pin them above her head, my hands closing around them with just enough pressure to feel control settle into my body. She whimpers—soft and wanting—and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

But I don’t move yet. I lean down, breathing against her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “God, yes.”

I growl low in my throat and kiss her hard, devouring her. My hips grind into hers, and she arches beneath me, moaning as I pin her to the bed with the weight of my body, my hands still holding hers firm.

I trail kisses down her neck, across her chest, biting gently at the curve of her breast just to hear her gasp. Her hips buck, but I hold her steady. My control is paper-thin now, fraying with every breath she takes.

“Eddie,” she moans, writhing. “Please—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” I say, my voice barely more than a growl. “But first…” I release her wrists, just for a moment, and lean back slightly. “We need to talk,” I say, my hand sliding down her inner thigh.

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with lust but focused. “Okay…”

“Birth control?”

“I have an IUD,” she says breathlessly. “And I’m clean. Tested two months ago.”

I nod slowly, my heart thudding in my chest. “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom.”

Her eyes search mine. “Are you clean?”

“Yes,” I say. “Tested before my last tour. Always careful.”

I hesitate for half a second, then tell her the truth. “I’ve never wanted to go without before. But with you… I do.”

Her breath stutters, her fingers brushing my jaw.

“I want that too,” she whispers.

She’s spread beneath me, panting, flushed, her eyes wild and full of heat, wrists pinned above her head with my hand. I’m already halfway gone, just from the look of her—but I hold back, breathing heavy, watching every twitch of her body, every shallow rise and fall of her chest.

I press my hips into hers, slow and firm, not giving her everything—not yet—just enough to make her writhe.

“You sure about this?” I ask, voice a low gravel against her ear.

She nods, breathless. “Yes. God, yes.”

But I still don’t move. Not all the way. I kiss the corner of her mouth, down the curve of her jaw, then murmur, “You wet for me, baby?”

Her whole body arches, her thighs twitching around my waist.

“Let me feel,” I whisper, and finally let go of her wrists. “Keep your hands where they are.”

She obeys instantly, fingers curled into the sheets above her head as I trail my hand down her side, then between her legs. I slide my fingers through her folds, groaning when I feel how soaked she is for me—slick, hot, ready.

“Fuck,” I mutter, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles. “You’re drenched.”

She whimpers, hips rocking toward my hand. “Eddie, please—”

I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them just right, watching her come undone in real-time.

“You like it when I take control,” I murmur, my thumb stroking her clit as my fingers work her slow and deep. “You like being pinned down and used like this, don’t you?”

She moans, writhing beneath me. “Yes… yes, I love it—”

Her walls flutter around my fingers, her head thrown back, and I can feel how close she is already. I kiss her again—hard, deep—before I pull my hand away, and she whines in protest at the loss.

“Patience,” I growl, wiping my fingers across her inner thigh, then lining myself up. “I need to feel you now. All of you.”

She stares up at me, dazed and desperate and mine. “Do it. I’m yours.”

With a low, guttural groan, I thrust inside her—slow, steady, claiming every inch. She gasps, eyes flying wide, her back arching as I sink all the way in.

“Jesus,” I grit out, barely holding it together. “You’re so tight, baby. So fucking perfect.”

I still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting myself not lose it right away. Her body clenches around me, pulling me deeper, and I grip her hips hard enough to leave marks.

“Now,” she pleads. “Please, Eddie. Fuck me.”

And then I move.

I drive into her hard, relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the room. Her legs are locked around me, her moans getting louder with every thrust, her hands still fisted in the sheets like I told her to keep them there.

She’s shaking—not just from the force of it, but from how badly she’s holding back.

“I know you’re close,” I pant, pressing my forehead to hers. “I can feel it.”

“Please,” she whispers, completely wrecked. “Eddie, I need to—please let me—”

I pin her hands back down, kissing her roughly, biting her lip just enough to make her gasp.

“Not yet,” I growl. “You come when I say.”

She lets out the most desperate sound I’ve ever heard, her body twitching beneath me, so damn close to the edge it’s painful for her. And for me, too.

I thrust harder, deeper, and her mouth falls open, silent screams ghosting off her lips.

“You want to come?” I snarl against her throat.

“Yes! God, yes!”

“Then say it. Say who owns that body.”

“You do,” she gasps. “You do, Eddie!”

I snap my hips into her one final time and groan, “Then come for me, now.”

She shatters beneath me.

It’s primal, the way she falls apart—hips jerking, nails clawing at the sheets, head thrown back as she cries out, her orgasm ripping through her with wild abandon. She clenches around me so hard it takes me with her, my control completely gone.

“Fuck, Laney, fuck,” I roar, emptying into her, grinding deep as I spill every last drop, raw and bare and lost inside her.

I collapse onto her, shaking, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My chest heaves against hers, and I press kisses into her damp skin, her collarbone, her jaw, her lips—anywhere I can reach.

“I’m obsessed with you,” I murmur into her neck, too breathless to stop the words from tumbling out. “Laney… I don’t know how I’m supposed to last a second out there without you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and in my head, I want to say more. I want to tell her I love her. That I’m falling hard. That she’s not just some fantasy. I want her real, every day, in my bed, in my arms, in my life.

But I don’t say it.

I’m scared. Not of the feeling but of what it might do to her. I don’t want to break this spell. Not yet.

And worse, there’s her.

The mistake I made last year, during a stupid, dumb night in Berlin, the one-night stand with that record label publicist who now won’t stop showing up at meetings like she still owns a piece of me.

The label is insisting she comes on tour again, “for press coordination,” and the thought of Laney anywhere near that chaos makes my skin crawl.

It’s easy for me to ignore the woman but my Laney is pure, sweet, and I don’t want that woman’s malignance near her.

She doesn’t belong in that world.

She belongs here.

I pull myself together slowly, brushing her hair from her face as she stares up at me, dazed and glowing and mine.

“I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispers, voice rough and full of meaning. “I think I already was before I even touched you.”

That tears right through me.

I kiss her—gentle this time, slow, reverent. My lips linger on hers as I breathe her in, grounding myself in this moment. Her hands find their way to my chest, stroking softly over my heart like she knows what I’m not saying.

Eventually, I ease out of her with a low groan, careful and slow, already missing the warmth of her body wrapped around me.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, kissing her cheek before slipping out of bed.

I head to the bathroom, grab a warm cloth, and return. She’s lying there, flushed and open and stunning, and when I kneel between her thighs to clean her up, I pause.

My seed is glistening on her skin, trailing down the insides of her thighs, and I can’t help it—I stare.

“You have no idea how good you look like this,” I say, my voice thick, reverent. “With my come on your thighs.”

Her breath catches, and her gaze darkens instantly.

She likes it.

I watch her body react—nipples tightening, thighs twitching, cheeks flushing deeper. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Noted,” I murmur with a smirk, running the warm cloth gently along her skin, taking my time, loving every second of her like this—wrecked, blissed out, mine.

Still sensitive, still wrecked—but her body is already responding to me.

I smile, leaning over her, brushing my mouth along her collarbone as I whisper, “You like when I tell you what I see, don’t you?”

She nods, biting her lip, and I see her eyes flutter closed like she’s too far gone to pretend otherwise.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” I say softly. “Open. Used. Still needing more.”

Her breath stutters.

I drop the cloth gently beside the bed and slide my fingers down her stomach, teasing just above her mound.

“You want to come again?” I ask gently, not teasing now—just asking. Offering.

“I don’t know if I can,” she breathes, already trembling.

“I think you can,” I whisper, brushing my knuckles lightly over her clit. “And I want to give it to you. Let me.”

She lets out the softest whimper, then nods.

That’s all I need.

I stroke her slowly—just my fingers this time—gentle, controlled, circling her swollen clit with featherlight pressure. She gasps, body twitching, still sensitive but craving the sensation.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

She grabs my forearm, her fingers digging in, but she doesn’t stop me. Her hips begin to move with my hand, chasing it, needing it. Her thighs tremble, her lips parting with every shaky breath.

I slip a finger inside her, just one, curling it ever so slightly as I keep my thumb circling her clit in a slow, steady rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” I whisper. “You’re doing so good. Just feel it. Let me take care of you.”

She moans—soft and high and helpless. Her entire body tenses again, legs shaking, chest rising fast.

“Eddie—oh, God—”

“I’ve got you,” I say again, brushing a kiss against her ribs, watching her fall apart.

She comes undone with a breathless cry, back arching, thighs clamping around my hand as her climax rolls through her—slower, deeper this time. Less fire, more flood. Her body quivers beneath my touch, her face flushed and wet with sweat, her chest heaving with the effort of feeling so much.

I slow my movements, easing her down gently, until she collapses back into the mattress, boneless and breathless and glowing.

She blinks up at me, dazed. “You… are ridiculous.”

I chuckle low, wiping her gently with the cloth again, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh. “You’re welcome.”

I stroke her delicate skin, marveling that this woman is mine and knowing in my heart there will never be another woman like her for me.

Once I’m done, I toss the cloth aside and slide back into bed, pulling her against me, her cheek resting on my chest, her legs tangled with mine.

I wrap both arms around her like I’m afraid she might slip through my fingers if I don’t hold tight enough.

But she doesn’t move. She just sighs softly and melts into me like she belongs here.

And she does.

God help me… I’m so in love with her.

She’s curled into me, her skin still damp and glowing, her breath warm against my chest. I run my fingers slowly up and down her spine, just to keep her tethered to the moment, to me.

Her body feels boneless, spent in the most beautiful way, and I can still feel the aftershocks of her last release in the way she shudders every time my fingertips brush a sensitive spot.

She’s quiet now. Not because there’s nothing to say but because there’s nothing else that needs to be said.

I press a slow kiss on her forehead, then her temple, then the crown of her hair.

She lets out a tiny sigh and murmurs something incoherent into my skin. I smile, adjusting the covers around us, tucking her even closer.

Outside, the world hums quietly beneath the weight of the late hour, but in here? It’s just us. Her heartbeat against mine. My arms around her like I never want to let go.

Because I don’t.

Sleep comes slowly—like warmth spreading through my limbs—but just before it pulls me under, I whisper the words I still can’t say out loud:

Stay with me. Love me.

And maybe she does, maybe if I’m lucky she will.