Page 228 of Sexting His Assistant

I hold her gaze for a second, then lower my mouth again.

This time, I keep one hand pressed lightly over her lower stomach, holding her still so she does not jolt herself. I use my tongue slower, deeper, taking her into my mouth until her fingers tighten in my hair. Her thighs tremble around my shoulders. Her breath breaks, and I can feel her trying to keep herself quiet even though no one is near enough to hear.

I don’t tell her to be quiet.

Tonight, I want her to know she does not have to perform control for me.

I keep going until the pleasure finally overtakes the fear.

Her body tightens around my fingers, her hand gripping my hair as she comes with a soft, helpless sound, and I hold her through it, mouth still on her, gentling the pressure as the orgasm moves through her. She shakes, then melts into the bed in a way that looks almost painful in its relief.

I kiss the inside of her thigh once, then carefully ease my fingers out and reach for the towel on the bedside table.

She lies there with her eyes closed, breathing slowly.

Better. Much better.

I clean her gently, pull her shorts back up, and cover her with the blanket before lying beside her on top of the covers.

She turns toward me immediately.

Her hand finds my shirt.

Nina murmurs, “Stay.”

I say, “I’m here.”

She opens her eyes halfway. They are heavy now, soft with exhaustion and pleasure. “I want you.”

I close my eyes briefly.

That sentence should not affect me as much as it does.

I want her too. Painfully. My body is hard, my restraint thin, my mind full of every way I could have her if she were well. But she has a concussion. She was unconscious two days ago. Her head still hurts when she laughs. She needs sleep more than she needs me inside her, even if she does not want to admit it.

I cover her hand with mine. “No.”

Her brows draw together. “No?”

I say, “You are recovering.”

“I’m fine.”

I give her a look.

She sighs. “Fine. I’m mostly fine.”

I say, “That is not enough.”

Her fingers curl weakly in my shirt. “You’re rejecting me in your own guest room.”

“I’m stopping us before I do something Mirov will stab me for.”

Nina says, “Mirov doesn’t need to know.”

I say, “Your head will know.”

She looks irritated, but she is too relaxed to make it convincing. “You are being responsible.”