"To enjoy it properly." My hands slide under her shirt, finding bare skin. "To take our time. To make it last."
She grinds down harder, and I can feel her heat through our clothes, can feel how wet she already is.
"I've thought about that day so many times," she breathes. "About how you felt inside me. How desperate we both were."
"We're still desperate, baby. But now we don't have to rush." I grip her hips, guiding her movements. "Now I can savor making you fall apart."
"Tyler—"
"Tell me what you need."
"This. You. Just—" She's grinding against me harder now, chasing friction. "I need to feel you again. Need to know this is real."
"It's real. We're real. Harper's safe and you're mine, and we have forever." I rock up against her, matching her rhythm. "And I'm going to spend that forever making you come over and over until you can't remember what it was like to want me and not be able to have me."
"God, yes." Her movements are getting more desperate now, her breath coming faster. "I'm already so close?—"
"Then come for me, Red. Right here on my lap. Let me feel you fall apart."
I grip her hips tighter, grinding her down against my cock through our clothes, and the friction combined with the filthy words has her tipping over the edge fast.
"Tyler… Fuck… I'm?—"
She comes with my name on her lips, her whole body shaking, and watching her lose control pushes me right over with her. I come in my pants, groaning her name, my hips jerking up against hers.
We stay like this for a moment, both panting, both processing what just happened.
“That was—” Nora starts, her voice breathy and a little bit dazed as she leans her forehead against mine. She’s still vibrating, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against my chest that matches my own.
“That was overdue,” I finish for her, my hands still hooked tight around her hips. My jeans are ruined, soaked through and heavy, but I couldn't care less. The weight of the world just lifted off my shoulders in that courtroom, and apparently, my body decided it was time to celebrate the only way it knew how.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her hair is a mess, hercheeks are flushed a deep, beautiful pink, and her eyes are dark with a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated want.
“We just acted like teenagers,” she whispers, a small, shaky laugh escaping her lips.
“Yeah. Well.” I brush a stray lock of red hair behind her ear, my thumb lingering on her cheekbone. “Teenagers have to worry about their parents coming home. We don’t. We have a house. We have a lock on that door upstairs. And I’ve got a hell of a lot more in me than one quick round through my denim.”
I see the moment her pupils blow out. She swallows hard, her hands sliding from my shoulders to the back of my neck, her nails grazing the sensitive skin there.
“Is that right?”
“That’s a promise.” I stand up with her still wrapped around me, my muscles groaning at the sudden shift in weight, but I don't care. I want her close. I want to feel the heat of her skin through her clothes until I can get her out of them. “That whole thing was hot as fuck. But Red? I’m nowhere near done with you. Last time was fast and desperate. This time, I’m taking my time.”
I carry her upstairs, the silence of the house wrapped around us like a blanket. We pass Harper’s door, and for a split second, I look at the wood and feel that surge of fierce, protective love. She’s safe. Everything is okay.
I kick the bedroom door shut—ourbedroom now—and lay her out on the mattress. I don’t join her immediately. I stand at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning my shirt with steady fingers, watching the way her eyes track every inch of skin I reveal.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, finally shedding the ruined jeans and settling between her thighs. I’m still in my boxers, the heat of her radiating through the thin fabric. “Last time I barely got to look at you. Too desperate. Too fast. But now—now I’m going to map every inch of you.”
I start at her ankles. It’s a slow, agonizing crawl. I peel her leggings down, my hands lingering on the soft curve of her calves,the dip of her ankles. I press my mouth to the inside of her knee, and she gasps, her back arching off the sheets.
“Tyler—”
“Shh. Let me worship you, Red.”
I work my way up, my hands sliding under the hem of her shirt, gathering the fabric until I can pull it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and the sight of her—pale skin, dark nipples already peaked and waiting—makes my throat go dry. I take one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, biting just hard enough to make her whimper.
I spend the next hour dismantling her defense by defense. I’m not just touching her; I’m investigating. I want to know the exact sound she makes when I trail my thumbs along the inside of her hip bones. I want to feel the way her pulse jumps in her throat when I bite the curve of her waist.