My breaths and my heart and my desperation.
The way I whimpered and tried to get closer to him.
“Shit. Baby,” he grunted, and those blue eyes were on my face when I whispered, “Please.”
Needing his relief.
To sate this fire that burned and flamed.
“Want to break every rule for you.” His words were a grunt, and instinctively, I was pushing up higher on my knees.
I had one arm looped around his neck, the other still trapped by his hand between us.
“Break this one. Touch me,” I said at his ear before I moved so I could look down at him.
Our noses brushing, our gazes locked.
And I knew right then, this man was becoming what I shouldn’t let him.
Everything.
Everything.
Every word between us was a pant. A scrape of breaths. A whisper of desire.
Our bodies rocked in time. In sync. Already way out ahead of his reservations.
With him, I wanted to chase down that beautiful something that I’d never before felt.
“Maggie,” he murmured, and he shifted our hands so his knuckles brushed against my center.
Electricity cracked.
A shudder ripped through me. Head to toe.
“Please.”
He released my wrist and shifted so he was rubbing me on the outside of my shorts.
I pitched and ground over his touch.
Wanting more.
Desperate to find it.
A buzz.
A blaze.
Tiny fireworks that promised to go boom.
His mouth was at my throat, his beard tickling against my skin, his words tumbling into my spirit, “Mags. Sweet Thing. So beautiful. What are you doin’ to me?”
My fingertips sank into his flesh.
Hanging on.
Never wanting to let go.
“Want to break all my rules for you,” he grumbled again, right into my pulse point that thundered and drummed. “How’s that, Goddess Girl, that you got me tied?”
A tremble rolled through his being when I raked my nails down his back.
“And I want to give everything to you. Be there for you the same way you are for me,” I managed to pant.
A thousand things flashed through his expression.
Sadness.
Greed.
Reservation.
The belief that he wasn’t good enough.
My heart just about split.
Tore right in two.
One half of it given to him.
And maybe he had it right. Maybe this really was wrong, a terrible idea, because I could already feel the fractures forming. The attachment growing.
Tendrils that grew up from the sweetest, most sacred place inside me, spread and curled and looked for a place to take root.
And I was right there.
Riding this edge that stole my breath.
Made me writhe.
Made me beg.
“Please, Rhys. I need…”
His hand shifted so his fingertips were just under the edge of the leg of my shorts.
Worry filled those soulful eyes when he edged back enough to meet my gaze.
Nothing but care and desperation in his. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
A million times yes.
He nudged the fabric aside, still watching me.
My thighs trembled, nerves rattling.
But it wasn’t in fear.
It was in anticipation.
In experiencing this by my choosing.
With him.
With him.
He brushed his fingertips through me.
I jolted.
Whimpered.
“You good?” The words were shards.
The man slipping.
Barely hanging onto his own raveling thread.
“More,” was the only thing I could get out.
He slowly eased two big fingers inside me.
My mouth dropped open at the feel of it. At the need that flared.
“Oh, God, Rhys. Please. I need you.”
I could tell I was wet and slippery when I started rocking over him, begging him for more.
“Fuck, baby. What are you trying to do to me? Gonna ruin me. Gonna ruin it all.”
Every word dripped with affection as he started dragging those fingers in and out, stroking deep inside.
My walls clenched around the perfect intrusion, and my breaths turned ragged and my nails sank deeper into his shoulders and this feeling swept over me.
A storm.
So intense.
So right.
So perfect.
“Rhys.” I rasped it, riding his hand, wanting to hold onto this feeling forever while I raced for a high.
The boiling that was coming to a head.
His free hand slipped around to one side of my bottom, covering the cheek and guiding me over the other.
His fingers felt big and massive inside me but barely enough.
The greed inside my belly urged me to drag his underwear free and take all of him inside.
I thought maybe he knew.
That he could taste it, the way his tongue darted out to lick across his lips, the way he started to drive faster and his thumb was suddenly rubbing at that swollen, achy spot and his ragged words were promising, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Trust me, baby. I’ve got you.”
I was gasping, pressing myself harder, deeper, faster on his hand.
Everything glowed and gathered and threatened to burst. He swirled his thumb.
“You feel it, Goddess Girl?”
I nodded frantically.
Racing, racing.
“It’s yours. Take it.”
A second later, I split.
Felt myself splinter in his hands.
Pleasure tore through me like a bomb.
A detonation.
An explosion.
Rupturing.
Rendering.
Bliss sped through my veins and took over every cell.
Ecstasy.
I shook in it.
An earthquake.
I pressed my mouth to his neck to keep from pressing it to his mouth, burying the cries there. “Rhys. Oh. It’s so good. It feels so good.”