“I mean it,” I say. “We’ll find a tiny apartment. No one will know us there. We can be together. No more sneaking around.”
Her eyes are terrified. Like she wants to believe me but doesn’t know how.
“I’m not McKenzie,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be worshiped. I’m not even Marie. I don’t want some perfect-boy soft version of love.”
“I won’t,” I say, voice low.
“Then prove it.”
Her fingers slide into my waistband. She wraps her small hand around my cock and guides me to where she’s already shoved her underwear aside, legs open wide as she’s perched at the edge of the bathroom counter.
God help me, she’s drenched already.
I groan and slide my fingers between her thighs, circling slow and deliberate, and her breath catches.
When my cock pushes inside, she lets out a sound I’ve never heard from her before—half gasp, half challenge.
Her nails dig into my hips.
“If you love me,” she grits out, “thenseeme. Not some fantasy.Me.”
Her eyes dare me.
“Fuck me dirty, Caleb.”
It hits me deep in a primal place every time she says my name like that. And she never has to beg. So I thrust deeper, inch by slow inch, watching her jaw go slack, eyelids fluttering as I stretch her open.
I’m still not all the way in. She gasps, legs tightening around me, and then reaches down, pinching her own nipple hard between her fingers.
It’s so filthy. Soher.
My knees nearly buckle.
I grab her ass, lift her slightly, and drive in the rest of the way. Her head snaps back. She arches off thecounter with a strangled cry, like she can’t take it but also won’t let me stop.
She doesn’t want me to worship her. Okay. I get it.
She wants to be ruined?
I’ll ruin her.
I brace her legs over my forearms and start thrusting, not giving her time to adjust. Each stroke punches into her, her slickness coating my length as her body clenches tighter around me.
Her hands slide under my shirt, nails raking down my chest, my stomach. I pause long enough just to tug my shirt off over my head. Her teeth immediately find my shoulder, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
I don’t stop her. I want her to leave marks.
“You scare the shit out of me,” she whispers against my skin even as she clings to me.
Oh Harper. “I know.”
“This thing between us…” she trails off, neck falling back as her hips thrust forcefully against mine as I pick up pace. “I don’t know how to trust it.”
“Me neither.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, then locks her ankles around my neck, hauling me in closer with my next thrust. I can barely believe the way she’s folded herself, but it feels so damn—Fuck.
Sweat beads on my back. I can barely hold back the groan building in my chest. She’s dragging it out of me with every roll of her hips, every shiver, and every low, desperate sound she makes as I bottom out again and again.