Page 98 of Never To Be Mine

He drew me closer, settling me half across his lap. The hard length of him pressed against my thigh. My hands roamed over him, mapping the familiar ridges of muscle. The kiss turned hungrier, his teeth grazing my lower lip. My fingers threaded into his damp hair to hold him where I wanted him. Water sloshed gently as I shifted, straddling him properly, the friction of skin on skin sending sparks racing through me.

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my breath coming fast. “Sit on the edge,” I said, voice low and sure. “Now.”

“What?”

“Unless you want me to drown, sit on the edge.”

Hollis’s brows lifted, surprise flickering into heat. He didn’t argue, just braced his hands on the rim and lifted himself out of the water in one smooth motion. Water streamed down his chest and abs as he settled on the edge, legs parted. I stayed in the tub, kneeling on the bench so the surface came just to my shoulders. I wrapped my hands around his thighs, guiding him closer.

He was already hard. The sight sent a fresh pulse of need through me. I leaned in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the head, tasting him. His sharp inhale was all the encouragement I needed. I took him deeper, tongue swirling, one hand stroking the base while the other slid up his stomach to feel the way his muscles jumped under my palm.

“Fuck, Juno,” he groaned.

I hollowed my cheeks and took him farther, loving the way his thighs tensed beneath my hands, the low sounds he made when I worked my tongue just right. Steam rose around us, the night air cool against my wet skin, but all I cared about was the way he filled my mouth, the way his control frayed with every pass of my lips.

I pulled off for a second, breathing hard, a string of saliva connecting us. “Don’t hold back,” I told him, then sank down again, taking him deeper, faster, until his hips twitched and his head tipped back. His free hand found my shoulder, thumb stroking my collarbone.

The water lapped at my breasts as I moved. His grip tightened in my hair.

“Juno, I’m close,” he warned, voice ragged.

I didn’t stop. I wanted this, wanted him undone by me the way he always undid me. His whole body shuddered, a broken moan echoing around the deck. I slowed my pace until he was spent and breathing hard above me.

I pressed one last kiss to his thigh before resting my cheek against it, both of us catching our breath in the steam. His hand smoothed down my damp hair, tender now.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling me up into his lap again so I straddled him properly on the edge, water dripping from both of us. “You’re going to kill me.”

I smiled against his throat. “Not yet.”

He chuckled low in his chest, the sound rumbling through me. “Inside,” he murmured against my temple. “Now.”

Before I could respond, he stood, water cascading off his legs, and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. My arms looped around his neck on instinct, legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me across the deck. The air against my wet skin had gooseflesh covering my entire body. He walked through the living room and didn’t stop until we reached the bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind us, and then his mouth was on mine again. He kissed me like he had all night to savor every inch, tongue stroking slowly against mine as he lowered me onto the bed. I arched up into him, hands sliding over the broad expanse of his back, pulling him closer. His body covered mine, all hard muscle and heat, careful not to crush me but letting me feel every inch of him.

“Juno,” he whispered, voice rough. “I need you.”

I tugged him down for another kiss, slower, our breaths mingling as his hands roamed my body. He kissed over my cheek and then tugged my earlobe with his teeth. His mouth slid lower, his tongue sliding across my collarbone and then down to my breast. He worshiped every part of me, fingers tracing the places his tongue had been. He whispered against my flesh, making me feel beautiful and desired in a way that still surprised me after all these weeks.

He reached for the nightstand and pulled out a condom. I watched him roll it on, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something intimate in that moment, the quiet pause that said this mattered. I couldn’t explain the connection I felt to him. But it was there.

His eyes locked on mine, watching me an intensity that sent heat spiraling through my body. He reached out and ran his fingers over my cheek in the gentlest touch. I tilted my head, leaning into it.

“What are you doing?” I asked softly.

“Memorizing every detail of this moment.”

I smiled. “Why?”

“Because it’s perfect.”

I got it. I understood. And I felt the same way.

When he settled between my thighs, he kissed me again. The gentle, loving press of his lips against mine touched my soul. He slowly pushed inside me. I moaned softly at the perfect stretch, my hands gripping his shoulders as he joined our bodies.

We moved together. Not frantic but deep and connected, his hips rocking against mine with deliberate care. He kissed my jaw, my collarbone, murmuring my name like a prayer. Pleasure built in slow waves, my legs wrapping around him to pull him closer, our bodies sliding together in perfect sync. When the orgasm hit, it washed over me intensely, my walls clenching around him as I cried out into his neck. He followed soon after, groaning my name, body shuddering above me as he held me through it.

Afterward, he eased out carefully, disposed of the condom, and pulled me into his arms. My head rested on his chest where his heart hammered against my ear. I traced lazy circles over his skin, content in the quiet.