Page 88 of Only the Hunter

“Not yet.”

“Gabe—”

“I’ve waited years for this,” he says, like he’s still half in disbelief that it’s happening. “I’m not rushing.”

He moves lower, kissing my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh.

I push up, determined, reaching his jeans.

“Fair is fair.” I unbuckle his belt, hands shaking slightly. “You’re not the only one who has waited.”

He takes over, pushing his jeans and briefs down and stepping out of them.

I push back on the bed, back up to the pillows, making room for him.

Without me saying a word, he understands.

The mattress dips with his weight, as he climbs to join me, placing himself at my side.

He takes my lips, but it’s my turn to explore.

I trace along his side with a specific destination in mind. My fingers wrap around him and he inhales sharply.

He’s bigger than I imagined. His skin’s soft, stretched, and tight. The pad of my thumb smooths over his crown, spreading precum.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“Sensitive?” I tease.

“You have no idea.”

I stroke him, following his cue, slow at first, learning what makes his eyelids shut, what makes his hips jerk.

“Evie,” he grits out. “If you keep doing that⁠—”

“What?”

“I won’t last.”

I release him and suck my thumb clean.

His eyes darken.

“Then don’t wait.”

He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a condom, and rolls it on with practiced ease.

Then he’s back, settling between my thighs, and I feel him there—hot and hard and perfect.

We both watch as he glides the tip back and forth through my slit.

“Last chance,” he grunts, and for a second, everything goes still. “We can still stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch.

“Okay?”