Page 148 of The Tower

“Take it off,” he commanded, tugging at the fabric.

She complied, stripping off both blouse and bra, then tossing them aside. He leaned forward, his mouth immediately closing over one gorgeous peak as he sat up, then sucked hard enough to make her cry out and clench around him.

“That’s it, Princess,” he growled against her breast, one hand sliding between them to tease her clit. “Come for me again.”

She drew in a ragged breath, then rode him harder, chasing the building pressure, her rhythm growing erratic as she approached the edge. “Liam,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m close. Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his eyes devouring her as she moved above him. “Look at you. Taking me so deep. Like you were made for me.”

“I was.” She ground down on him gasping. “We were made for each other.”

Yes, he thought. Oh, god, yes.

The simple truth of it broke something open in him. His hands tightened on her hips as he took control of her movements, driving her down onto him with increasing urgency. “I love you,” he said, the words more raw and honest than any he’d ever spoken. “Fuck, Sasha, I love you so damn much.”

“I love you, too,” she managed. “I need you, Liam. Wildly. Desperately.”

Her words washed over him with the same force as his strongest orgasm. She was his. He was hers. And nothing would change that.

That realization, so powerful and true, drove him on. His fingers on her clit. His cock hitting that perfect spot inside her, all driving her rapidly toward another climax. “Grimm, I’m going to⁠—”

“Yes,” he urged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

She came with his name on her lips, her body clenching around him in waves that seemed to go on forever. He followed a heartbeat later, his hips jerking upward as he emptied himself inside her with a hoarse moan.

For a long moment, they stayed locked together, both panting, sweat-slicked and trembling. Then Liam shifted, keeping her in his arms as he adjusted their position on the sofa, still joined, her body sprawled across his chest.

“That was …” he began, then laughed softly. “I don’t even have words.”

“Worth waiting for,” she said, then pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Although I may have to reupholster the couch.”

He chuckled. “Worth it.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He cupped her face, his expression shifting to something more serious, more vulnerable. “I meant it, you know. What I said.”

“I know,” she replied, no need to specify which words. “I meant it, too.”

He finally withdrew, but only to gather her more comfortably against him. “Bed,” he said firmly. “That was just the appetizer.”

“Are you sure you’re up for more?” she teased, though she could already feel him hardening against her again.

He flashed a predatory smile. “I’ve got to make up for lost time.” He shifted their positions, then stood up with her in his arms. “Hope you didn’t have plans for the rest of the night.”

“Just a half-dozen really cute guys. But I’ll cancel.”

“Careful,” he teased. “I’d hate to have to spank you.”

She laughed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“True,” he said, then bent to kiss her. “And you’d like it, too.”

Later—much later—they lay tangled in the sheets, her back to his front, his arm possessively draped over her waist. Their bodies were like a map of their reunion—bite marks on her neck and breasts, her ass still a bit red, and scratches on his back and shoulders. Both of them deliciously sore in the best possible way.

“What are you thinking?”

His fingers traced idle patterns on her hip, the earlier urgency replaced by something gentler but no less intimate. “That I’ve never felt this before,” he admitted, the truth easier in post-coital darkness. “This … peace.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, cherishing her touch. Hell, cherishing her. “We walked through fire, Princess. And we came out stronger. Together.”