What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(76)

She was more. She was always so, so much more.

The shadow of my hand broke the stream of moonlight on her stomach as I reached for her, the rough callouses of my palm eliciting a shutter from her when I finally touched her ribs. My hands nearly encompassed the whole of her as I wrapped them around her, pulling her into me and dragging my gaze up until I found her eyes again. I held her close, trailing my fingertips up over her arm until I framed her cheek once more.

“You are a masterpiece, Sarah,” I breathed. “An absolute deity.”

She shook her head, trying to look down between us, but I held her chin, held her gaze, held her in every way I could as I spoke again.

“You are,” I repeated. “And I won’t stop worshiping you until you see it, too.”

I kissed her to seal that promise, pulling my hands from her only long enough to strip off my suit jacket and unbutton my dress shirt before peeling it off, too. I dropped them both on the floor next to her clothes, and Sarah’s hands slipped over my shoulders, my pecs, trailing down my abdomen and sparking a wave of chills in their wake. She pulled away from my kiss, breathing through parted lips as her eyes danced over where her hands touched me.

“And you say I’m the deity,” she murmured.

I chuckled, pulling her back into the bed with me and covering us with the sheets before I slid between her legs again. I still wore my pants, much to Sarah’s disdain, I found, as she tried to undo my belt under the covers. But I held her hands, pulled them back up until they were pressed into the pillow on either side of her head as I kissed her softly, slowly, with purpose.

“I want to kiss you,” I whispered.

“You already are.”

I shook my head, running my tongue along her bottom lip before I pulled back. “I want to kiss you everywhere.”

I slid down her body, kissing a trail across her dainty collarbone, over the swells of her breasts exposed by her bra, along the length of her long, lean navel. She wriggled under each new touch of my lips, and when I settled between her thighs, moving until the backs of them were on my shoulders and my hands were braced on the top of them, she leaned up on her elbows and watched me with wide eyes.

“I want to kiss you here,” I breathed, sucking the tender skin on the inside of each of her thighs before I hovered over the white cotton of her panties. “Is that okay, Sarah? Can I kiss you here?”

“Yes,” she breathed, wiggling under my grip again. “Please.”

I kept my mouth on her, kissing along her thighs as I gently pulled her panties down. She lifted her hips, every muscle trembling as she did, and I slid her panties over her ass, down her thighs, pulling back long enough to free them of her ankles before I settled between her legs again. The sweet scent of her hit my nose as I trailed one hand up the inside of her thigh, brushing the crease of it before I tugged gently on the soft pubic hair covering her.

“I like this,” I mused, smiling a little at the new chills that broke out over her legs.

My eyes found hers, and then I lowered my mouth, kissing her where I wanted to most.

Sarah gasped as I swept my tongue over her sensitive clit, arching her back off the bed as her fists twisted in the sheets. She let out a long, seductive moan as I swirled my tongue, the tip of it circling her clit before I sucked gently. Her hands flew from the sheets to my hair, tugging in a silent plea for more.

I groaned, running my tongue flat against her before sucking her bud between my teeth again. Her moans turned to whimpers, legs shaking on either side of me the more I tasted her, and every squirm fed my desire.

This.

This was what I wanted — to make her feel good, to make her fall apart with the pleasure she deserved to feel, the desire she deserved to elicit from the man who was lucky enough to touch her. I didn’t know why that blessing was mine, why it was me who got the opportunity to erase what had happened to her before, to replace those memories with ones of ecstasy.

All I knew was that I wouldn’t waste my chance.

Carefully, with as much patience as I could muster in that moment of all-consuming desire, I slipped one finger between her lips as my tongue worked her clit. She sighed at the sensation, and I ran the pad of my finger along her wet slit, teasing her, warming her up before I slipped just the tip of my finger inside her.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, arching off the bed again. Her hands twisted in my hair, thighs spreading to allow me access.

She was so tight, so tender and sensitive as I slowly slid my finger in more, centimeter by centimeter, until she swallowed my first knuckle. I curled that finger inside her, working in rhythm with my mouth as she wriggled under me.

I’d had countless women in my lifetime, more than I cared to admit, but in that moment — with Sarah in my bed, her thighs on either side of my face, her hands in my hair, her body succumbing to the pleasure I brought her with my tongue — it was like being reborn again. It was my first time. It was her first time. It was the first and the only and the everything when I touched her.

I hoped she felt it, too.

She grew tighter the longer I worked, her muscles contracting as her breaths came shallower. She was close, and when I slipped another finger inside her, carefully — but with a firm command — she let out a moan that nearly made me come.

“Yes,” she breathed, squirming under my touch. “Reese, yes. Yes.”

I worked my tongue faster, curling my fingers inside her, and when I knew she was close, I climbed my way up her body with my fingers still inside her. My mouth found hers, and I swallowed her next moan, letting her taste herself on my tongue as the palm of my hand rubbed her clit. I moved my hips with my hand, driving my fingers into her over and over again until she tightened around me.