Page 95 of The Best Shot

A low groan escaped her; mine answered it.

“Shit, Yasmine.” I stopped there, buried deep, one hand locked on her hip while I remembered how to breathe. “You feel too damn good.”

She shifted back against me.

“Careful,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be.

I’d wanted her in this exact position since the first time, and now that I had it, I wasn’t in any hurry to be done with it.

Her hips moved again.

“Brat,” I said, and felt her tighten around me.

I cupped her tits, working her nipples as I started fucking her with deep, measured strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding all the way back in.

“With me?” I rasped against her ear.

“Yes. Please, Hale—harder.”

That did something ugly and hot to my self-control.

The bed creaked under us, headboard tapping faintly against the wall with each drive forward. She pushed back into every thrust, meeting me with a rhythm that wrecked what was left of my patience.

She said my name again, raw and pleading. Loud now, not caring, and I filed that away as one of my favorite things.

“Let go of the bars if you need to,” I said against her ear. “Hold onto me instead.”

Her fingers flexed, then released. One hand reached back, gripping my thigh; the other fisted the sheet. She pushed back harder, meeting every thrust.

“Right there. Fuck, Hale, like that.”

She knew what she wanted and went after it, and Christ, I liked that about her. Liked it so much my rhythm broke for half a second.

I felt her tightening, close again. My hand slid down, fingers finding her clit, circling firm, while I lost myself.

She came hard, tightening around me, and whatever control I’d been pretending to have went with her.

“Fuck.” I buried myself deep and followed, my mouth pressed to her shoulder because I didn’t trust what else might come out of it.

We stayed like that a moment, still joined, both of us trying to catch our breath. Then I eased out slowly, turned her over carefully, and settled her back against the pillows.

Her breathing slowed. Mine followed.

I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip.

“Good?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She gave me that lazy little smile. “We should try the rope next time.”

“Whatever you want.”

I pressed my forehead to hers, wrapped my hands around her wrists again, gentler this time, and kissed her slow. Not chasing anything. Not building toward anything. Just that.

28

“MORE LIKE A PRACTICE RUN.”

YASMINE