Page 67 of Worth the Shot

She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, thrusting her hips forward, taking all of me in one desperate, instinctive movement. A broken sound rips out of her that’s raw, beautiful and almost enough to kill me.

“Harder, Bren,” she pleads, voice ragged. “Please. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile.”

Yes fucking ma’am.

I flip her effortlessly into my lap, needing to see her. Needing to watch her fall apart on top of me. She settles onto my cock, fully seated, and her eyes flutter like she’s overwhelmed by the stretch. One hand grips her thigh, the other her waist, just guiding her, steadying her. Her body takes me perfectly, every inch snug inside her warmth. She moves slow at first, rolling her hips, and my vision actually blurs.

“Jesus Christ, Laney,” I drag my mouth along her throat, tasting the heat there, “you’re…fuck…you’re perfect. Mine. All mine.”

Her fingers thread into my hair and tug hard. My hips buck up instinctively and she moans, head falling back. I do it again, and again, watching her come undone as one hand grab her ass, the other pulling her closer as my tongue trails across her nipples. Her body lures me, pulls me, owns me. And when her eyes meet mine again they’re heavy, glazed, her pupils blown and it’s like staring into something holy. Something I’d die to protect. She lowers her forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine, and whispers:

“Don’t stop.”

And I don’t. Not for anything.

I can tell she’s getting close but I want to savor this moment. In one movement, I slide her back underneath me. I want this with her so badly, and I want it the right way. So I slow it down, even when she begs for me to go faster. I don’t listen. And even then, even when I feel her arch beneath me, even when my name leaves her lips with a moan that sounds like salvation, even when she’s looking up at me like I’m the first safe place she’s ever had…

I still go slow.

Slow enough for her breath to hitch.

Slow enough for her eyes to flicker closed.

Slow enough that when the moment finally shifts and want becomes something deeper, more raw, something neither of us can take back—she’s right there with me, leaning up to meet my mouth with a kind of certainty I’ve never felt from her before.

My cock pulses inside her like a goddamn lifeline, every throb grounding me to this moment, to her, to the way nothing has ever felt this necessary.

Her legs pull me closer.

Her hands curve down my back.

She’s not holding on, she’s holding me.

And God, I hold her right back.

Just like that, the world drops away and there’s only her breath, her skin, her softness under my hands, the quiet little sounds she makes against my mouth, the way she whispers my name like she’s claiming me. Choosing me. When we fall apart and the world exhales around us and her body eases beneath mine, I roll to the side and pull her with me. She tucks herself into me like she was built for that spot.

Her leg tangled with mine.

Her arm across my chest.

Her face tucked beneath my jaw.

We breathe like one thing. One heartbeat. One body. One soul split into two for too long. I kiss her hair and she melts into me, pliant, trusting, like the fight is finally gone from her muscles. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I tighten my arms around her, chest full, throat tight, and kiss her forehead because I don’t know how not to.

“Laney,” I whisper.

She hums, half-asleep already.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t pull away either.

And that’s enough to undo me completely.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Delaney