Page 157 of The Route to You

She gave a strangled noise that sounded something like a yes, as his tongue flicked her pulsing clit. “So good.”

The pressure started to build, her fingers digging into the sheets, her back arching. “More⁠—”

He pulled away abruptly, reached forward, and grabbed her long hair, tangling it around his fist. Drawing her back, he kissed her mouth hard, his other hand crossing over her breasts. His fingertips made hard circles over one nipple. “Tell me you want me, Sloan.”

“I want you. God, I want you so bad.”

His kiss bruised her harder, his fingers and palm rougher. He released her hair, then slid the other hand down over her hip, making a slick glide over her clit, before impaling her on his fingers.

He pulled away and searched her eyes, her mouth still open, inches from his. “Tell me you love me.”

That broke something in her.

Something she hadn’t anticipated.

This man. This strong, sexy, caring man who’d once given himself to her over and over again so willingly . . . he needed to hear she loved him before he fucked her.

“I love you, Kyle Winnick.”

“I love you too, Sloan Carrington.” His mouth tipped in a soft smile—just a hint of one—and pushed her down onto her hands again, hands finding her hips just as quickly. Then he pushed her knees apart with his own and found her entrance, slamming his full length hard inside her.

She cried out, the feeling so intense and so fucking incredible that she had to grip the sheets with both hands, burying her face against the mattress. “I want to hear you,” Kyle said, sliding out, inch by inch, letting her feel his withdrawal.

This time, when he pushed inside him, her moan of pleasure was louder than before. “Oh, God, Kyle.”

His hand found her clit as he started to push in and out, her body meeting his, her back arching hard as she ground against him. “So . . . good . . .” Her body shuddered as sparks shot through her limbs.

This wasn’t slow. Wasn’t sweet lovemaking. Nothing of the sort.

It was feral, wild bucking, hard and fast, deep thrusts that left her bruised in the best way possible, crying out with pleasure for more.

But maybe it was what they needed, because they could hold each other later.

This was about something much deeper.

Much more . . . desperate.

Sex that was about need, and want, and fulfilling years of separation that had carved them both out and fashioned them into who they were now. Who she needed to be—for him. For herself. For them.

And even though he was the steady one, he’d changed too. He wasn’t the boy too hesitant to tell her exactly what he thought. Too worried about hurting her feelings that he didn’t challenge her to be better.

He’d become everything she needed, too.

When she started to come, she squirmed against his fingers on her clit, and his hand dug in harder. “I’m not letting you quit me, woman. Ride it out.”

And she did, a scream ripping from her as she came, every inch of her skin seeming to explode at once.

“Holy fuck,” she managed, panting as her body trembled.

He didn’t let up, though. And as another orgasm crested, she felt him start to throb hard against her pussy. Then he thrust in hard, one last time, and came.

The feeling of it undid her all over again, and their cries mingled.

When they’d both gone silent, Kyle hooked his arm around her waist, rolling to the side on the bed and pulling her down to curl up against him, still connected.

Outside the door, Sadie and Charlie pawed, scratched, and whined.

Sloan laughed, too spent to even lift her head. “They probably think we’re killing each other.”