Page 113 of Make Me Yours

The tension inside me coils tighter with every steady roll of his hips.

Every low groan he presses into my skin.

Every whispered word that falls from his lips.

“So beautiful. So damn perfect.”

The pleasure continues to build until it’s sharp, sweet, and all-consuming.

Until I’m teetering on the edge.

And when he reaches around, finding my clit with skilled fingers and stroking me in perfect time with his thrusts, I find myself dancing on the brink, barely able to hold it together.

“Steele—”

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “Let go. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

I shatter with a cry, my muscles clenching around him as my vision goes hazy and stars explode behind my eyelids. My entire body tightens, pulsing with pleasure so intense it makes my knees buckle.

Steele growls before following me over the edge. His hips drive deep one final time as he spills inside me with a hoarse shout of my name.

For a long moment, we cling to each other, unsteady and silent, lost in the aftershocks.

He eases out of me before gathering me up into his arms.

“You’re mine now, Lilah,” he mutters against my hair, voice rough with emotion.

And nestled against him, heart still racing, body still humming with the echo of him inside me, I know it’s true.

For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to be thoroughly fucked.

And nothing has ever felt more incredible.

34

STEELE

Ilean against the counter as Lilah moves around the kitchen. Her hair is tied in a knot at the top of her head, and a loose sweater slips off one shoulder as she carefully arranges slices of cheese and cured meats on a wooden board.

I’ve never wanted to devour someone for slicing cheese and arranging almonds in my life. I didn’t even think it was a possibility.

“You know it’s going to get demolished within ten minutes, right?” I say, grinning as she carefully displays a stack of crackers.

Lilah doesn’t bother looking up from what she’s doing. “This isn’t for you guys. It’s for the girls, and we actually appreciate the effort.”

She grabs a sprig of rosemary, tucking it between the crackers like she’s plating a Michelin-star meal. “Pretty sure Callie, Rina, and Sloane won’t care how fancy it looks.”

A smile trembles around the corners of her lips. “You just don’t understand the art of a good charcuterie board, Sanderson. Presentation matters.”

I push off the counter and wander toward her, my movements deliberate. “Oh, is that right?”

She reaches for the olives, completely unfazed when I step in behind her, slide an arm around her waist, and nuzzle the curve of her neck. “Steele,” she warns with a laugh.

I nibble at the spot just below her ear. “You smell like vanilla and rosemary.”

“You’re going to mess up my platter.”

“I’d like to mess up way more than that.”