Page 183 of The Temporary Fiancée
“It has holes in it. Big ones.”
I look down at the blanket beneath her—the lopsided one I spent weeks making for her, full of mistakes and uneven stitches—and the love I feel for this woman lands so hard I have to slow my hips just to take a breath.
A grin pulls at my mouth as an idea forms in my head.
“Holes serve a purpose.”
She blinks up at me. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like this.”
I reach up to where her hands are still fisted in the sheets and tug a section of blanket loose, pulling it up beside her wrists. I find the largest of the holes I made—uneven, embarrassingly big—and slip it over both her wrists, twisting the fabric so it holds them loosely together against the pillow.
She looks up at me, her wrists framed by my own bad knitting, her eyes bright and a little dazed. I have to bend down and kiss her before I can speak again.
She laughs against my mouth. “Hm. I guess you have a point.”
“Damn right, I do.”
I start to move again, harder this time, my hand returning to her clit. Her bound wrists flex against the blanket above her head but she doesn’t try to pull free. Her hips lift to meet every thrust. Her breath comes faster, ragged against my mouth.
I’m not going to last long. Not with her looking at me like that. Not with her tied up in something I made for her.
“I want you to come for me. I want to feel it.”
She nods against my mouth, little sounds that aren’t quite words spilling from her. I press my thumb harder against her clit, drive deeper into her, and it pushes her over the edge. She falls apart with a sharp cry, her back arching off the bed, her bound hands fisting against the pillow above her head. I’ve been fighting against myself not to come until she did, and before the first shudder of her orgasm ripples through her, I’m joining her.
My thrusts turn uneven as I bury myself deep and pulse inside her, a ragged groan tearing out of me as jets of cum fill her pussy.
For a long moment, neither of us moves, hearts pounding together. Her bound hands rest above her head, her fingersloosening. Then I lift up enough to look at her. She’s flushed, her hair a mess, her eyes wet.
“Are you okay?” I murmur.
She licks her lips, smiling despite the tears. “Never been better.”
I reach up and work the blanket loose from her wrists. Her arms drop, and I bring each of her hands to my mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of each wrist before settling them against my chest. She lets out a breath, her eyes meeting mine. Her expression is exhausted, sated, and content, her eyes half-lidded.
I shift onto my side and pull her with me, her petite body molding against mine.
“I love you so much,” I tell her again, just because I can.
“I love you too.”
Her words dance over my skin as I hold her close, vowing to never let her slip through my fingers again. She’s too important to me.
When it comes to thinking about my future, Olivia’s face is the first one I see.
Chapter 45
Olivia
It’sa full forty-eight hours before Reed and I finally emerge from The Luxe, coming up for air after nonstop sex. In truth, we probably could have stayed holed up in there for longer, gleefully enjoying each other, if his kitchen hadn’t run dry.
He takes me back to the diner where we first made our arrangement, and insists on ordering a bunch of food. Within half an hour, we’re surrounded by so many plates that they barely fit on the table.
I pick at the hash browns, grinning up at him. My body is sore in the best ways possible. “Don’t you think this might have been overkill?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
