Page 85 of The Catch

"Show me what I've been missing out on."

"Can I touch you?"

"Touch me."

"Thank God," he says and, in a swift, assertive move, brings me to him.

I'm enveloped in his arms as he kisses me. Deeply. Desperately. Without missing a beat, he touches me over my clothes first, learning my body again like he did back in the club. He tests the edges of my clothes and pulls at them slowly. My skirt comes up before it goes down and to my ankles. I step away from the black puddle, and he follows me closer to the bed.

His fingers play with the loose fabric of my blouse. "Be careful the next time you wear this."

He kisses my neck, his hands caressing my skin and exploring the structured lines of the bottom half of my bra.

"Why? Jealous of what others get to see?"

I run my fingers through his hair. I want him to be jealous.

"Show off what you have," he says. "Let everyone know just how gorgeous you are."

I feel his words on my skin and I shiver.

"But if I see you in this shirt again, wearing a bra like this again, I will remember how you feel in my hands. Your softness and the texture of your clothes. The taste of your mouth. And I may not be able to help myself."

I moan. "If I don't wear it, you won't remember?"

He takes off my shirt, a small smile on his lips. "I'll remember. This shirt might just break me for a second time."

"I think I like breaking you."

His smile stretches somewhat. He guides me next to the bed, and drops a kiss on my lips.

"Keep breaking me, Ames. As much as you want to."

His hands go around my ribcage and he undoes the hooks of my bra. His hands are gentle as he removes the piece of clothing from me.

"You already have," he says, before he kisses me, hard.

His hands splay and grab me by my waist, only to throw me on the bed. I fly for less than a second, but it feels like freefall. By the end, my feet are dangling off the bed. His lips trail over my jaw, back to my mouth, down my neck, as hishands massage me and his thumbs tease my nipples. Energy still courses through me, but it has changed. Now it's the thrill of knowing he wants me.

He licks the swell of my breast, then swirls his tongue on a tip. I moan and let my fingers swim in his hair.

"You're everything," he mutters against my skin.

His words cascade down my skin, a caress that stirs something inside of me. Ease and power entwine and cut through me. My heart skips a beat and gooseflesh appears all over. Such a simple statement. Exactly what I crave.

I may have lost myself in recent years but, in this moment with Saint, he sees me whole.

I get to be me, take what I want, and he wants me to do it.

His hair is silky between my fingers. I pull at it. He groans.

"Let me show you," he whispers.

I want to feel how he sees me. Do as I need to do. Take all he offers.

"Show me," I say.

He licks— kisses— licks down my belly. Closes his mouth on my mound, over the fabric of my underwear. I buckle, and he chuckles.