I’ve never felt so exposed. Bare and vulnerable in every way. My arms twitch to cover myself—some instinct I learned from the men who came before him.
They looked at me like I was something to tolerate or tame.
But it’s the slow bob of his throat, the way his breathing quickens, muscles bunching… that has me feelingwanted.
Kade looks at me like I hung the moon and it has me wishing with everything in me that I never have to know what it feels likeafterhim.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby,” he breathes, eyes locked on mine before they drift lower—slow and hungry. “Jesus Christ.Look at you.”
He strokes himself again, this time rougher, like he can’t help it, like touching himself to the sight of me is involuntary.
“I knew you were sexy, but this…”
He shakes his head, eyes dragging down to my breasts, lingering on the way they move with each shuddered breath before falling to the space between my legs.
Kade groans, stroking harder, faster, before dragging his gaze back up to my face.
“Every curve and freckle and dip of you is perfect,” he murmurs, eyes holding mine. “But if you took it all away and never let me see or touch you again, I’d still be wrecked and desperate.”
“Kade…” I shake my head. That can’t be true.
“You’ve got no clue what you do to me, do you?”
I swallow hard, heart pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape. Instead of answering, I gesture to his pants.
“Wanna see you,” I whisper. “All of you.”
His jaw tightens, teeth gritted, and slips his hand free, holding it up between us in a loose beckon.
“This isn’t about me,” he murmurs, voice raw. “Not today.”
I take a trembling step forward. “Why?”
His hand wraps around mine and tugs me the rest of the way until I fall into the couch, knees braced on either side of him again. His hands come up to hold my hips, big and warm and strong, grounding me.
“Because, baby,” he says softly, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand like it’s the most important part of me. “You’re sick, and I’m takin’ care of you.”
My throat goes tight. I flick my gaze to the coffee table—the cold tea, the carefully lined-up products, the snacks I still haven’t touched. “You did take care of me.”
Before I can blink, he grabs my hips and lifts me with ease, guiding me over his body. I gasp, hands scrambling for the armrest to catch my balance as I straddle him.
His palms slide up the outside of my thighs, callused and rough and so goddamn reverent it makes my eyes sting.
“Thatwasme caring for you,” he agrees, voice low and thick. “So is this. Every orgasm. Every scream of pleasure. Every drip of your cum sliding down my throat—that’s all part of me making sure my girl is happy and cared for. And when you’re exhausted and soft and sated, me wrappin’ you up in my arms and holdin’ you while you sleep… that’s me takin’ care of both of us.”
My throat tightens with something terrifyingly close to tears.
No one has ever said something like that to me.
No one has ever made me feel like this—with their words, with their hands, with theirsoul.
“I want to take care of you too,” I whisper, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. “How can I do that when you won’t let me?”
His smile is soft. Devastating. It punches me straight in the chest.
“You wanna take care of me, darlin’?”
“Yes.” I nod, eyes glassy. “I really do.”
