Page 109 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

I kiss him harder, my fingertips grazing along his jawline, feeling the rough stubble beneath my touch.

His breath hitches, a soft gasp that sends a thrill down my spine. I pull away just enough to see his face, his eyes darkening with desire.

My heart races, a chaotic mix of anticipation and fear.

His scent fills my nostrils—earth and pine mixed with the musky aroma of leather—grounding me in the reality of the moment.

I trail my fingers down his neck, feeling the pulse beneath his skin, evidence of the effect I'm having on him.

"Sloane," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. It’s a plea, a question, a promise all rolled into one word.

"Shhh," I murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. "Just feel."

I slide off his lap and stand in front of him, letting him take in the sight of me.

Each piece of clothing I shed is a revelation, a deliberate stripping away of barriers. My shirt hits the floor, followed by my jeans, leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. His gaze roams over me, hungry and reverent.

I reach out and begin to unbutton his shirt, taking my time, savoring every inch of skin revealed. His chest is a landscape of hard muscle and old scars, each one a testament to battles fought and won.

My fingers trace the marks, committing them to memory.

He watches me with a fierce intensity, his body tense with the effort of holding back. I can sense the coiled energy in him, the desperation to take control.

But he doesn’t—he lets me set the pace, lets me lead.

I push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My fingers skim over his chest, down to the waistband of his pants. His breath catches, and a low groan escapes him as I unbuckle his belt, pulling it free with a deliberate slowness.

He lifts his hips, allowing me to slide his pants down, revealing the rest of him.

There’s a vulnerability in his nakedness, a raw honesty that makes my breath catch. I step back slightly, taking in the sight of him—the strong lines of his body, the tension in his muscles, the undeniable proof of his desire for me.

I climb back onto his lap, straddling him once more.

This time, the barriers between us are gone, leaving only skin against skin, heat against heat. His hands find my hips again, gripping me with a strength tempered by restraint. I can feel him, hard and ready, pressed against me, but he waits, allowing me to control the pace.

My lips find his again, a slow, deep kiss that breathes life into my veins. I rock against him, feeling the friction build between us, the electricity sparking with each movement.

His hands tighten on my hips, a silent urging that he’s holding back.

I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance. His breath hitches as I lower myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch.

The sensation is overwhelming—a mix of pleasure and intensity that steals my breath. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent as I adjust to the feel of him inside me.

He moves beneath me, a slow, steady rhythm that matches the beat of my heart. His hands roam over my back, pulling me closer, deeper.

Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me, building a heat that threatens to consume me.

I lift my head, meeting his gaze as I begin to move with him, finding a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.

His eyes are dark, fevered, locked onto mine with an intensity that feels like a promise.

"Logan," I whisper, my voice barely recognizable. "Feel me."

He groans, his hands gripping my hips tighter as we move together. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, a primal symphony that blocks out everything else.

I can feel the tension building within him, the restraint beginning to crumble. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body tensing with the effort of holding back.

I lean down, pressing my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as we chase the release together.