Page 107 of One Night with Number Nineteen

He doesn’t stop—and oh, I’m thankful for that as he kisses me, as he works my pussy and clit with his fingers and tongue.

As he slides one broad hand up my middle and shoves it under the bunched-up material.

I cry out as he cups one breast and then the other.

“Sawyer!” I gasp as he rolls my nipples, feeling the beginnings of my orgasm shuddering through me, little ricochets of pleasure zinging through my body.

“Uh-uh,” he says, pulling back.

Leaving me suddenly bereft.

Leaving me empty and aching and⁠—

A warm hand on my cheek. Another behind my back, coaxing me up enough to pull off my nightgown and toss it aside.

“Sawyer,” I say—or maybe it’s that I beg.

“Together this time, Pages,” he says softly.

The raging inferno of my need eases slightly…is replaced by a softness, an affection, a different type of yearning altogether.

“Sawyer,” I say again. “I⁠—”

I love you.

But something has my throat stoppering up, the words staying trapped inside.

Too soon. Too much.

Neither of us is ready.

He rests his forehead against mine, exhales softly before brushing a kiss over my lips. “I do too,” he murmurs.

My lungs spasm, and I press my hand to his cheek, eyes sliding closed for a heartbeat.

Then I open them again. “Now, handsome.”

“Now,” he repeats.

He grabs his pants from the floor, digs into the pocket and pulls out his wallet.

A moment later, he’s rolling the condom down his cock, is coming back over the top of me, and our gazes are locking as he asks softly, “Ready?”

I hitch my leg around his waist. “Yeah, honey.”

He shifts, notching the head of his cock at my entrance and pushing inside.

One inch. Another. Another. Another.

And I was right.

He stretches me wide, oh so good.

I moan as he finally bottoms out.

He groans then rests his forehead on mine again. “Okay?” he rasps, the tension of holding himself back in every single cell in his body.

“Better than okay,” I whisper. “You feel perfect. This feels perfect.”