Until my breath is shallow and strained.
Until my voice is a whine.
“Please.” The words fall off my lips with ease.
He responds with a deep groan. And his fingertips on my clit.
He holds me close, sucking on my neck, toying with my breasts.
Rubbing me exactly how I need him.
My gaze flits to the window for a second.
There’s a hint of our reflection. His dark hand against my pale skin. His slacks below my thighs. His hand between my legs.
It’s faint. Barely there.
But the knowledge the entire fucking city can see us—
It deepens the ache in my core.
I’m already so close. So desperately in need of him.
My eyelids flutter closed.
His thumb rolls over my nipple.
His teeth sink into my neck.
The soft, steady circles with just the right pleasure—
There.
My eyes burst open as I come. I groan his name. Watch him rub me through my orgasm through the reflection.
Somehow, it makes my pulses harder. It pushes the pleasure deeper. So much I can barely take it.
So much I can barely breathe.
But I can.
And as soon as I catch my breath, I need more. I need everything.
I let my head fall onto his chest. “I want to touch you.”
“You will.” His voice is steady. Patient.
He’s still hard—I can feel him against my ass—but he’s so fucking patient.
“There’s a full-length mirror in my room.” He pulls my hair aside to press his lips to my neck.
“Oh. So you…”
“Want you to watch as I fuck your pretty mouth.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ian
Eve’s heels tap the floor. Her eyes go the window letting in the soft blue light.
The building across from this one. Bright yellow against dark sky. A woman working late.
The slight reflection of her light skin and teal hair. Like the moon on the water. Luminous and fleeting.
I bring my hand to her shoulder. Turn her to the mirrored closet door. An ordinary feature turned illicit.
An entire wall reflecting the blush on her cheeks, the heave of her chest, the curve of her lips.
And my hand on her shoulder, side, stomach.
Her eyes flutter closed. Her head falls to one side. Her hair goes with it.
She’s already lost in anticipation. In a world of deep, pure desire.
I need to keep her there. In this place that makes sense.
And I need to lose myself in her.
To pin her to the bed and split her in half.
To claw at her soft back and come on her lush ass.
My head fills with delicious ideas.
Too many ideas. I can’t afford to lose control.
She trusts me with her body.
Yes, she wants it hard and fast, but she’s not ready for that.
I can’t promise soft and slow, but I can show some restraint.
A fucking modicum.
I press my palm into her stomach, holding her body against mine.
She purrs as she melts into me. Her back against my chest, her arms against my sides, her ass against my cock.
I need to feel that. To feel her flesh against mine. Her soft hand wrapped around me.
“Ian…” She arches her back, rolling her ass over my crotch. Her eyes flutter open. They go to the mirror. She blushes as she takes in our reflection. “I want to, but I’ve never…”
“I know.”
“I might not—”
“You will.”
“And you’ll…” She makes eye contact through the mirror. She stares into my eyes like she’s staring into my soul. Maybe she is.
She’s in my room. My space. My life.
She’s in my room and I want to keep her here. I want to tie her to the fucking bed so I can fuck her senseless.
And then talk to her all goddamn night.
“Will you go hard?” Her voice is shy.
It makes my balls tighten. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
Fuck, I’m already going out of my mind. “Give me your hands.”
She does.
I take one and place it above her head. Against the mirror.
She leans forward enough her ass rocks against me. A groan falls off her lips.
She wants more, and she’s not patient.
Still, she stays soft. Pliable.
I place her other hand on her hip.
She watches as I unknot my tie and toss it on the black sheets. As I unbutton my shirt. Do away with my belt.
“Can I?” She makes eye contact through the mirror. Motions to the shirt. My chest.
I nod. “Turn around.”
She does. She looks up at me, those grey-green eyes wide with need, desire, curiosity. Slowly, she trails her fingers over my chest. Down my stomach.
She undoes the last three buttons. Pushes my shirt off my shoulders.
I toss it aside.
She runs her fingers over my collarbone. The Latin quote tattoo on my chest. The compass beneath it.
She stares up at me with those grey-green eyes. All curiosity. All tenderness.
Asking for more in every sense of the word.
There’s one part I understand.
The rest—
Fuck, I want it too badly. To wrap my arms around her waist, lay her on the bed, kiss her as our bodies join.