Page 35 of Rosetti Family New York

“No,” I lie, the word a desperate whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes wild and intense. “Bullshit.”

I am breaking apart at the seams, coming undone with every touch. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I don’t care. I yank him closer, hungrier for him than I’ve ever been for anything.

He smiles, and as his mouth finds mine again, my entire body shudders.

“Admit it, Eleanor,” he says, and his lips burn a trail down my neck. His hands are everywhere, possessive and hot, sending me spiraling. I can barely hold myself up. I am falling, free and terrifying and so, so good.

He kisses me hard. He laughs against my skin. It’s not fair, the way he makes me want him. The way I can’t fight it.

“You’re a bastard,” I gasp, and my voice is shaking. I am shaking.

“Tell me what you want.” He runs his fingers down my body, and my head spins.

“Damn you,” I breathe, clenching my teeth.

He pulls me flush against him, and I feel how hard he is. How much he wants me. I can’t deny it anymore.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he repeats.

“You,” I choke out, and I am a live wire, finally letting myself feel.

“That’s what I thought.” He is relentless, and it feels like the best kind of defeat. Like the world is spinning out of control, and I don’t care.

I crash my mouth into his, desperate and hungry, and he pins me to the tree, his hands in my hair. It feels so right.

“You want more,” he says, and his lips never leave mine.

“Yes,” I sob, breathless and wild, my control gone. “I want more. Don’t stop.”

It feels good to tell the truth. It feels like flying.

He kisses me again, running his fingers up my thighs and slipping under my dress. I arch into him, drugged by his touch. He knows I’m not lying anymore. I don’t have it in me to lie.

“More,” I beg, frantic. I don’t care if I have to crawl on my knees to get it. I just want him.

He puts his fingers in my panties, and I melt.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” His voice is rough and breathless, like he’s barely holding on.

“Please,” I moan, and I am not the woman I thought I was. I am someone else entirely.

He slides a finger inside me, and I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming.

“That’s it, Eleanor,” he breathes. “You feel so good.”

I shatter. I don’t want the pieces back.

He keeps his mouth on mine, swallowing my cries. I am free-falling, and it feels so right. I don’t want it to end.

His fingers curl deeper and slide in and out of me. Each stroke sends a jolt through my body. His thumb brushes over my clit, a rough, teasing caress that nearly makes me scream. I don't know how much more I can take. His hand is relentless, dragging me to the edge. I'm unraveling around him, faster and faster. His kiss is brutal and soft. His touch, rough and perfect. I want to break apart for him. I will break apart for him. I’m going to fall apart with just his kiss and fingers alone.

It hits me like an explosion. This moment has been arriving for days, weeks, months, my whole lifetime. Crawling closer, especially since he punished me for leaving to check on Juliet, taking me to the edge of bliss and not letting me fall. And it’s all worth it. Every moment of sexual frustration explodes inside me, bursting free and making me scream.

When I come back to myself, my legs are jelly and my heart is racing.

We collapse against the tree, breathless and raw, his chest rising and falling against mine. His heart thuds against me, loud and untamed. It’s like we’ve been hit by a storm, and we are left tangled in the aftermath, skin to skin and blazing. My headis on his shoulder, and he holds me there, letting the world fall back into place. Letting me catch my breath, even though it still comes ragged and fast. He smells like sweat and heat, and I want to drown in it, drown in him. I can feel him, hard against my stomach, a constant reminder of how much he wants me. I love it. I crave it. I want to burn for him until there is nothing left.