“Think?” I teased my lips over hers, resting my hands on her hips. “You think?”
“Little bit.”
“Remember when I told you you’d be mine?”
She drew in a shallow breath. I slid one hand up her body to cup the back of her head. My thumb just brushed against her jaw, and I pulled her into me a little more.
“Dahlia. Do you remember?”
“I remember,” she whispered.
“Was I right?”
Her fingers twitched, sending sparks across my skin. I’d never wanted to hear a fucking answer quite as much as I did this one. Nothing else much mattered other than what she was about to say.
“Mhmm.” She peered up at me, barely tilting her head back. “You were right.”
I covered her mouth with mine, taking it in a fierce kiss that made my heart thud against my ribs.
She was fucking mine.
Of course, she was. It was never in question, but I wanted to hear her say it. Something about hearing her say it was fucking intoxicating.
She was mine.
“Good,” I breathed, breaking the kiss for a moment, pushing her back to the bed.
Her legs hit the bed. She stumbled back onto the mattress, and I leaned over her, pinning her down with my body, slipping a leg between hers, trailing my hand up the side of her body until I had my palm against her cheek.
Our breathing mingled when my lips hovered just above hers. I wanted her, but not in the ways like before. Not in the frenzied, desperate ways I’d fucked her before.
I wanted to fuck her the way I loved her.
Easily.
Deeply.
Dangerously.
Because that was the goddamn truth. The way I loved this woman was fucking dangerous. Nothing else would ever be as much of a risk to me as my feelings about her were.
I stared into her eyes. Her big, blue, intense eyes. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed as she caught her breath.
“I’m yours, too,” I said hoarsely, running my thumb over the curve of her lower lip. “And I’m about to show you just how much.”
I kissed her again. It was all I could do. I needed to kiss her so deeply all the thoughts that had been swirling around in her head were gone—even if just for right now when she was in my arms. I wanted to consume her the way she owned me.
Her fingers slid into my hair and grasped it, her nails slicing across my scalp. It was the strangest sensation, hurting while it felt good. Her body melded to mine and she moved with me as I went through the motions of removing her clothes, throwing each item on the floor until she was wearing nothing but her lace thong, white and bright against her tanned skin.
She sat up, grabbing the waistband of my sweats. Gladly helping me get her out of them, I kicked them to the side with my underwear and climbed back over her body. Her hardened nipples brushed over my chest. My fingers probed her thighs and hips and ass until her legs were wide open and I was between them, my cock hard against her underwear.
I reached between us for her pussy. The second my fingertips eased beneath the fabric, her hips rose, and I made instant contact with the wetness of her. She was ready for me, but I pushed a finger inside her anyway, and then another, slowly pumping them against her as she moved her hips with the rhythm.
Her gasps filled the air, echoed by tiny, occasional moans. I wanted to watch her come undone, but not like this. I wanted my cock in her, buried far inside her as I fucked her slowly, as she begged me for more and harder.
I moved back, leaving her gasping, and grasped the band of her thong. I pulled it down her legs, leaving her bare, and hesitated before I moved back in position.
Like she knew, she looked at me, nodding the barest amount.
She cupped my neck with her hands as I guided the head of my cock to her wet opening. Her legs were wrapped around my waist, and she tilted her hips toward me. She wanted this as much as I did, but it was her words, breathed against my lips, that got me.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
The barest whisper, but the rawest thing I’d ever heard her say.
“I do more than trust you,” I whispered right back. “I love you.”
Whatever she was saying back was forgotten when I pushed inside her. All that existed then was she and I—maybe she spoke, maybe she didn’t. I couldn’t fucking tell anyone anything. All I knew that was there was nothing sweeter than the way she clenched her wet cunt around my hard cock and tightened her legs around my waist.
Nothing better than her nails in my back.
Than her gasps in my ear.