Page 22 of Worth the Risk (Worth It All #1)

Through half-closed eyes, I watch him watching me, and there’s something in his gaze—a fierce concentration, a need to memorize every response, every gasp.

As if he’s cataloging what makes me fall apart.

When he slides one finger inside me, then two, curling them forward while his tongue continues its assault, the pressure building inside me threatens to shatter me completely.

“Declan,” I gasp, teetering on the edge of something monumental. My thighs begin to tremble as he increases his pace, his fingers working in perfect rhythm with his mouth. “I’m going to?—”

“Let go,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his voice sending new sensations rippling through my body. “I want to watch you come apart.”

When the wave finally breaks, it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before—not just physical release but something that feels like surrender. I cry out his name as pleasure pulses through me, my body arching and tensing, then melting into the luxurious sheets beneath me.

Before I can fully recover, Declan is moving up my body, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that tastes of me and him together.

I can feel him hard against my thigh, his control slipping as he rocks against me with obvious need.

My hands slide down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart before continuing lower to wrap around him.

He hisses in a breath at my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Maya,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I need?—”

“I know what you need,” I murmur, guiding him toward me. “I need it too.”

He reaches toward the nightstand, fumbling for a moment before producing a condom. I watch as he tears the packet open with his teeth, the small action somehow intensely erotic. When he positions himself above me again, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that catches me off guard.

“Are you sure?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face with gentle fingers.

In answer, I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer.

Our eyes lock as he enters me slowly—inch by deliberate inch—the stretch and fullness making me gasp.

He pauses, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed against mine as we share the same breath, the same heartbeat.

When he begins to move, it’s with a restraint that speaks of both consideration and barely leashed desire.

“You feel incredible,” he whispers against my ear, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “So perfect around me.”

I tighten my legs around him, urging him deeper, wanting more of this connection that feels both new and somehow inevitable.

My hands explore the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and tense with each controlled thrust. There’s something almost reverent in the way he’s moving within me, as if he’s savoring every sensation, memorizing every response.

“More,” I breathe, nails digging into his shoulders. “I need more of you.”

His rhythm changes at my urging, thrusts becoming deeper, more insistent. The careful restraint he’s maintained begins to crack as his breathing grows ragged against my neck. I arch to meet each movement, feeling the tension building inside me again, different this time but no less powerful.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and when I open my eyes, the intensity of his gaze nearly undoes me. There’s something raw and unguarded in his expression that makes my chest tighten with an emotion I’m not ready to name.

Our bodies move together with increasing urgency, the room filled with the sounds of our pleasure—soft moans, whispered encouragements, skin against skin.

When he shifts his angle slightly, hitting a spot inside me that sends sparks shooting behind my eyelids, I cry out, my body clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, one hand sliding between us to circle my most sensitive spot. “Come for me again, Maya. I want to feel you.”

His words and touch push me over the edge, and I’m falling, drowning in sensation as pleasure crashes through me in waves.

This time, he follows me over, his rhythm faltering as he buries his face against my neck with a deep groan that vibrates through my entire body.

I feel him pulsing inside me, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above me, careful not to crush me with his weight.

For several minutes, we stay like this, connected and breathless, his heartbeat thundering against my chest. When he finally pulls away to dispose of the condom, the loss of contact leaves me feeling strangely bereft.

But he returns quickly, gathering me against his side, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

“We’re really in trouble, aren’t we?” I trail off, unable to articulate the tangled emotions welling up inside me. The weight of Monday’s meeting looms larger now, a shadow stretching across this perfect moment.

“Probably,” he agrees, his voice soft in the dim light of his bedroom. He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple that feels like both a promise and an apology. “But right now, in this moment, I don’t care.”

I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow as the city continues its own rhythm outside his windows. “I don’t either.”