Page 56 of You Rock My World

JOSIE

Dorian takes the stairs two at a time, his grip on me secure, his breathing steady despite carrying me.

I’d be impressed if I weren’t distracted by the cage of muscles I’m riding in.

His chest, arms, even his shoulders are firm.

Every shift sends a ripple through him—biceps flexing, chest hardening—and it passes on to me as a shiver.

I secure my arms around his neck more firmly, breathless as the second flight disappears under us. “How are you carrying me as if I weigh nothing?”

His laugh vibrates against my side. “Adrenaline.”

“That’s not how adrenaline works.”

“I don’t care,” he says as we crest the last step.

“You could have let me walk.” I nuzzle against his neck.

“And miss the chance to show off?” His voice is teasing, but underneath, he sounds possessive. “Nah.”

Dorian nudges his bedroom door open with his boot before striding inside and kicking it shut behind us.

The room is dark except for the soft glow of the city filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The skyline stretches endlessly beyond us, but I barely notice it. Dorian is the only thing I see.

He lowers me to the mattress with a care that contradicts the heat simmering in his gaze.

My breath stutters as I sink into the sheets and his weight settles between my thighs.

His hands frame my face, warm and steady, thumbs brushing my cheekbones as he looks down at me.

I can read so much in his expression—his eyes say, I love you, I want you, I need you.

I love him, I want him, and I need him right back.

I curl my fingers into his jacket. “Kiss me.”

Dorian doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes down on mine, capturing my lips with a groan, his teeth dragging over my lower lip.

We’ve kissed a bunch of times, and each one has been different.

It’s the same for this one. Because finally, we’re not hiding, no one is watching.

It’s a kiss that’s not stolen or forbidden.

Something we have to pretend isn’t happening.

This is real, open, and ours. We’re alone.

Just us, together, finally free to want—no barriers, no limits.

His lips are fire, his body a heavy weight wrapping around me, staking his claim. I grab the lapels of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, and he shrugs out of it without breaking contact. Dorian kisses me deeper, making up for lost time.

His hands slide underneath my sweatshirt, palms skimming my sides. My back bows as if to help him remove the useless barrier faster, pressing me harder against him.

I want more, need more. But… Oh. Oh .

I freeze, my stomach dropping as a horrifying realization slams into me.

I shove his hands away, gripping my sweatshirt before he can lift it. “Wait?—”

Dorian stops, his brows pulling together, breathing heavily. “What’s wrong?”

I groan, covering my face with both hands. “I’m not wearing my best seduction outfit right now.”

He stills, and I worry I’ve killed the mood. But then he crawls over me, prying my hands away from my face. “Are you serious?”

I wince. “Dorian, I’m literally wearing my oldest leggings with a hole in the butt and period-stained granny panties.”

He stares at me, shocked, then his lips twitch before he’s full-on laughing. The sound rolls over me, warm and tingly.

I glare at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, I think it’s very funny.” Dorian’s grin is nothing short of wicked as his fingers skim the hem of my sweatshirt, toying with the fabric. “None of that matters to me.”

I turn my head, a wave of embarrassment creeping over me, but he doesn’t let me look away, he grabs my chin and turns my face to him. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear. Baby, you could wear a garbage bag, and I’d still think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

I scowl. “That’s a terrible analogy.”

Dorian leans down, dragging his mouth along the column of my throat, pressing a kiss on my jaw. “And it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.” His hands slip under my clothes again. “Because I’m taking it all off anyway.”

His palms skim up my sides. Heat pools low in my stomach as Dorian sits back on his knees, drags the sweatshirt over my head, and sends it flying somewhere.

I’m done protesting or worrying he might be turned off by my crappy clothes.

Especially as his eyes darken as they sweep over the old, unsexy bra I’m wearing, his thumbs teasing the strip of skin above my waistband.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You’re so beautiful.”

My face burns as he pulls my leggings down my hips in one tortuously slow motion.

Dorian leans back, still fully clothed, his hands settling on my bare thighs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Mmm.” I might be losing the capacity to speak. But not the one to move, thankfully.

I hook my fingers into the hem of his T-shirt, desperate to feel him with nothing between us.

Dorian lets me pull it over his head, and my gaze rakes over him, tracing every sharp cut of muscle, the expanse of tanned skin, and all that sexy ink.

I trace the tattoos sprawling across his chest, the intricate details I’ve memorized, sketched on the skin of the princes in my stories, and dreamed of every night I spent alone.

“You’re obsessed with these,” he teases, watching me as I drag my nails lightly over his ribs. Finally, I can kiss the phoenix over his heart, lick the wave crests on the other side.

I stare up at him with my mouth still on his chest. “They’re my favorite.”

Dorian looks feral as he shifts his weight to press me back into the mattress. “Good. Because they’re all yours.”

We kiss again with no restraint. No teasing. Only heat and urgency, the kind that sinks into my bones and takes over. His hands are everywhere—skittering over my ribs, gripping my waist, mapping my body as if he’s been waiting forever to do it. And maybe he has. Maybe I have, too.

I slide my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, nails skimming the back of his neck as he kisses down my throat.

I don’t realize I’m trembling until his palm flattens against my stomach, grounding me. “Everything okay?”

I nod, tracing the curve of his jaw, the shadow of stubble rough under my fingertips. “I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“I love you.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s always been this simple. “I’m never letting you go.”

I smirk against his lips and undo the first button of his jeans. “Can you let go of these?”

Dorian shimmies out of his pants comically fast before he kneels back between my spread thighs—nothing comic about that. He slides a hand down my leg, fingers curling around my ankle as he lifts my foot, looping it over his shoulder. The motion stretches me with a delicious tension.

He smirks. “Socks stay on?”

I open my mouth to say something—something sarcastic, something teasing—but the way his fingers slowly peel the sock off steals the words from my throat.

He takes his time, tugging it past my toes before tossing it aside, peppering my ankle with featherlight, open-mouthed kisses.

Then he does the same with the other sock, his palm skimming down my calf in a touch so reverent, it nearly undoes me.

And then nothing is left between us except our underwear.

His mouth brushes the inside of my thigh. “Tell me you want this.”

I don’t hesitate. “I want you.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, his restraint fraying at the edges, but he keeps his movements measured. His fingers dip under the waistband of my panties, and he drags them down my legs, his knuckles grazing over sensitive skin.

And then I’m bare under him.

His gaze rakes over me, dark and hungry, his breath coming slower, heavier. My chest rises and falls in time with his, my pulse thrumming in my ears. Being laid out like this, exposed, makes me flush with heat all over.

“You’re perfect.” The words are barely a whisper, but they crash into me anyway.

Dorian moves over me, his body a wall of warmth, pressure, and friction.

I map his back muscles with my hands, every dip and curve, and the ridges of his spine. Then lower. I squeeze his round, perfect ass, loving the way he tenses under my grip before I slide his briefs down.

He dips his head, kissing me over my collarbone, across the swell of my breast. I don’t know when he unhooked my bra, only realize he’s tearing it off now.

His teeth scrape skin, sending a shiver rolling through me.

“Dorian—please…”

He hums against my skin as our bodies come together. And then there is no more him or me, we’re an us locked in our movements—slow and tentative at first, then desperate, urgent. I gasp for air as he claims every inch of me, the sensation overwhelming and perfect.

His forehead presses to mine, his breath ragged. “You okay?”

I nod, arching into him. “More than okay.”

Each slow roll of his hips sends heat ripping through me, winding me tighter and higher.

His name falls from my lips, a plea, a prayer, a promise.

He grips my thigh, his hand curling under my knee, lifting my leg higher against his waist. The shift sends a new wave of sensation crashing through me, and I gasp, fingers digging into his back.

Dorian’s breath is ragged. “I love you.”

The words unravel something deep in my chest, and when I tip my chin up to meet his mouth, I kiss him like I’m sealing a vow.

And then I let go.

I shatter underneath him, waves of pleasure pulsing through me. He follows me seconds later, his body tensing before he groans low against my neck. His hold on himself slips, and he collapses onto me.

We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, chests rising and falling in sync.

Dorian shifts, brushing the damp hair from my forehead, his lips ghosting over my temple. He watches me like I’ve undone him, like he’s still catching up to what just happened between us.

I rake my fingers through his hair in a slow caress. “So, did I rock your Christmas?”

He grins, slow and lazy. “Christmas is a few days away, we still got some rocking to do.”

“Already?” I laugh. “And here I thought Christmas only came once a year.”

Dorian shifts over me, pinning my hands above my head. “Are you sure you want to tease me right now, baby?”

The smile dies on my lips. “You know my brain goes mush when you call me baby.”

He arches a diabolical eyebrow at me. “Oh, I know, love.” Then his mouth finds mine, and I’m his again—now, tomorrow, always.