"I'm close," he warns, his voice rough with restraint.
I release him, kissing my way back up his body. "Not yet," I murmur against his heated skin. My lips trace the ridges of his abdomen, the hard planes of his chest, the strong column of his throat.
His hands come to my waist, lifting me effortlessly until I'm straddling his hips. Through the thin fabric of my shorts, I can feel him, hot and hard against my core. The friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
"These need to go," he growls, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts.
I lift my hips, allowing him to slide them down my legs along with my underwear. The cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver—or maybe it's the way he's looking at me, like I'm a feast and he's starving.
His hands glide up my thighs, his thumbs tracing maddening circles on my inner thighs, coming close to where I need him most but never quite touching. I rock against him, seeking friction, seeking relief from the ache building inside me.
"Ian, please," I whisper, not even caring about the desperation in my voice.
His fingers finally find me, sliding through slick heat. "So ready for me," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine as he circles that bundle of nerves that makes my vision blur at the edges.
I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance. Our eyes lock as I sink down onto him, taking him in one slow, delicious slide. We both gasp at the sensation, at the perfect fullness, at the rightness of our bodies joined together.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We're suspended in time, connected in the most intimate way, our heartbeats syncing to the same desperate rhythm. Then I start to move, rolling my hips in a slow, sensual dance.
His hands grip my waist, guiding me, helping me find the perfect angle. Each movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, building and building toward something magnificent. His eyes never leave mine, watching every expression that crosses my face, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan.
"You're so beautiful like this," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "So perfect. So mine."
The possessiveness in his tone sends a thrill through me. I lean down, capturing his lips with mine, our tongues tangling in a dance as old as time. His hands slide up my back, pressing me closer, skin to skin, heart to heart.
The new angle changes everything, hitting a spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. I break the kiss with a gasp, my forehead resting against his. "Ian, I?—"
"I know," he breathes, understanding without words. "I know, Claire."
Our movements become more urgent, more desperate. The coil of pleasure tightens low in my belly, winding tighter andtighter until I think I might shatter from the tension. Ian's rhythm falters, his grip on my hips tightening as he nears his own release.
"Let go," he urges, his voice a dark command in my ear. "Let go for me, Claire."
His words push me over the edge. I come with a cry that he swallows with his mouth, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The sensation triggers his own release, his hips jerking upward as he fills me with liquid heat.
We collapse together, a tangle of limbs and ragged breathing. His heart pounds against mine, our skin slick with sweat, our bodies still intimately connected. He brushes damp hair from my face, his touch impossibly tender.
"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. "So strong. So beautiful."
I shake my head slightly, my cheeks heating. "I'm not?—"
"You are." His voice is fierce, certain. "You're the strongest person I know. The bravest. The most determined."
The words undo me. Break through the last of my defenses, crumbling the walls I've spent years building. Because he's right. I am strong. I am determined. I am all those things.
But I'm also scared. And lonely. And so, so tired of carrying everything alone.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, letting his scent, his warmth, his presence fill the empty spaces inside me. He holds me, his arms wrapping around me, holding me together as I let myself feel, let myself be vulnerable in a way I haven't in years.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, our bodies still connected, our hearts still pounding. And for the first time in a long time, I feel... safe. Protected. Cared for.
Loved.
The thought sends a jolt through me, a spark of something bright and terrifying. Because I can't love him. Can't afford to. Not when I have so much riding on my future, on my dreams, on the life I'm trying to build.
But as I lie there in his arms, his breath evening out as he drifts toward sleep, I can't help but wonder...
What if I could? What if, just this once, I let myself have something for me? Something that isn't about survival or goals or the future, but about right now, about this moment, about him and me and the way he makes me feel?
