Page 45 of He Knows When You're Awake

I answer by pressing forward against his hand, forcing him to either tighten his grip or let go.

He doesn’t let go.

Chapter SeventeenSloane

This is madness.

Everything about this is chaotic and reckless. And I want more.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against my skin. It’s not a request—it’s a dare.

His hands slide down to my thighs, lifting me onto the workbench. Tools topple. The handcuffs at my wrists catch the light as my head falls back, his mouth trailing fire down my neck.

It should feel too fast. Too dangerous.

Instead, it feels inevitable.

I wrap my legs around him, drawing him closer. “Is that what you want? For me to stop you?”

His laugh rumbles low against my throat. “What I want...” His teeth graze my collarbone. “Is to take you right here, surrounded by your sketches and scattered gems. To watch you come apart on this table where you create.”

My body answers before I can think. But it’s not mindless lust. It’s a choice.

A surrender.

Heat pools low in my stomach. But through the haze of desire, a voice in my head reminds me that this solves nothing. The secrets are still there.

I press my bound hands against his chest, creating just enough space to think. “Cole.”

My next protest dies in my throat as his mouth finds that spot beneath my ear.

I should ask questions. I should demand answers.

But I don’t. I tilt into him instead, chasing the only certainty I have right now: him.

God, I want this man to fuck me.

My fingers continue to curl into his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Cole’s lips curve against my skin, sensing my hesitation.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my ear. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I swallow hard, fighting to find my voice. “I... I can’t.”

His hand slides up my thigh, fingers teasing the hem of my dress. “Then don’t fight it.”

My resolve crumbles. With a low moan, I capture his mouth with mine, kissing him deeply. Cole responds instantly, pressing me back against the workbench. The remaining pliers and metal sheets crash as they hit the floor, but neither of us notices.

His hands are everywhere, setting my skin ablaze. I want to unbutton his shirt, but the handcuffs make it difficult. I fumble with the buttons, my restricted movements clumsy. Cole growls low in his throat as he sees my struggle, reaching up to capture my bound wrists with one hand.

“Let me,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand while keeping my wrists pinned above my head.

Cole hitches my dress up around my waist. His fingers brush against my inner thigh, teasing, testing. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say the words.”

I swallow hard, trying to find the courage to voice my desires. “I want you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I want all of you.”

Cole growls in response, his grip on me tightening as he captures my mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue delves deep, exploring every inch of my mouth as if he can’t get enough of me. I respond in kind, meeting his passion with my own and giving myself over to the moment completely.