Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
She whimpers, thighs trembling around my head, and I dive back in—sucking, licking, fucking her with my fingers while I devour her. Nothing else exists. No threats. No missions. Just her taste on my tongue, her moans filling the room, her body shaking under my mouth.
“I’m so close,” she gasps, voice breaking.
“Give it to me,” I rasp, voice thick with need. “Come on my tongue, Riley. Drench my fucking face. I want to feel you fall apart.”
I suck her clit harder, fingers curling relentlessly, and she shatters.
Her whole body locks up, thighs clamping around my ears as she cries out my name. I don’t stop—keep licking her through every pulse, every shudder, drawing it out until she’s giggling breathlessly, oversensitive and boneless beneath me.
“I can’t feel my toes,” she manages, voice wrecked and dreamy.
I lift my head just enough to meet her hazy eyes, lips slick and swollen, chin dripping with her. I lick my lips slow, deliberate, tasting every last drop of her.
“Good,” I say, voice dark and satisfied.
I clean us both up, and tuck her against my body. She hums softly as her body relaxes against me.
“I should return the favor…”
I stop her before she can say anything else, “This isn’t about a score sheet. You don’t have to feel like you need to ‘return the favor’ just because I did something I’ve been thinking about doing since I met you.”
She repositions so she can gaze into my eyes. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever known a man like you before.”
I cup her cheek with one hand. “Everything I do for you is because I want to, not because I’m looking to keep score.”
TEN
RILEY
This is so new to me. Crewe isn’t like any man I’ve dated before. All the others have always wanted something from me. In and out of the bedroom, but Crewe just wants me to be happy.
Like he doesn’t care about himself.
And it makes me want to please him even more.
I slide my hand to his cheek and kiss him slower, softer—telling him without words that I want this.
Crewe responds like he’s been waiting for permission he never asked for.
The kiss turns hungry again, mouths moving, breath tangling. His hand slides along my side, pulling me flush to him, and I feel the hard line of his restraint right alongside his desire.
I gasp softly, and he makes that sound again—low and rough—and it lights me up from the inside.
He breaks the kiss to press his mouth to my throat, just below my jaw, and I inhale sharply.
“Crewe,” I whisper.
He pauses immediately. “Talk to me.”
My skin is too warm. My thoughts are too scattered. “Don’t stop.”
He exhales like that costs him something.
Then he continues—slow kisses along my neck, his hand still at my waist, grounding me. The intimacy of it hits harder than the heat. It’s not just what he’s doing.
It’s the fact that he’s paying attention.
Like my body is a language he’s fluent in already.
I tilt my head back, giving him access, and his mouth is warm against my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair.
He lifts his head and looks at me, eyes dark. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“Because you’re… you,” I whisper, breathless.
His mouth curves slightly. “That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
He kisses me again—one slow, deep kiss that turns my knees soft.
Then he pulls back, resting his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “I want you,” he says, and the raw honesty of it makes my heart flip. “But like I said, don’t feel like you owe me anything.”
I blink, overwhelmed. “I don’t.”
His hands tighten around my waist like he’s anchoring himself too. Like he’s fighting the instinct to do everything at once.
He kisses me again—deep, hot, unhurried.
And this time, I kiss him back like I’m done pretending I don’t want this with every part of me.
We move together in small shifts under the blanket, exploring, learning, building heat slowly until the world outside disappears completely. His hands stay firm but respectful, always checking in with the way he pauses, the way he watches my face.
My chest presses to his. My heartbeat syncs to his.
And for a few stolen minutes, I’m not thinking about sabotage or stolen codes or faceless men in black SUVs.
I’m thinking about the way Crewe Hawthorne kisses me like he means it.
Like he isn’t collecting a moment.
Like he’s choosing me.
He removes our clothing like he’s got all the time in the world, but I can tell he’s restraining himself.
“Pill? Are you on it?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He lets out an audible breath like this is the answer he’s been waiting for. “Good, because I need you raw.”
I suck in a breath. “You can let yourself go.”
He pauses and gazes at me. “If I let myself go… I might not ever come back.”
I cup his cheek, his stubble hard against my palm. “I’ll bring you back.”