Page 48 of Last Rites

It was hard to hold his gaze. I felt suddenly sheepish standing nude in front of him. The idea of being taken to bed and… taken, rendered me speechless. So, I nodded, looking a bit stricken if Kit’s answering chuckle was any measure.

Then he took my hand as he had in Merrick’s office and led me from the bathroom toward our bedroom. I clambered onto the bed while he shooed the kittens out into the hall and closed the door. I sat and hugged my knees to my chest, hoping the posture would hide the rapid fluttering of my breath.

Kit didn’t rush, and I thought I saw him breathing a little harder, too. His face was pale where it had been pink before as he got the oil pot from our side table and poured some into his palm. My attention fixed on his fingers turned slick and shiny as he climbed onto the straw mattress and crawled toward me.

Kneeling before me, he used his dry hand to comb through my hair. “You’re going to need to relax, sweetheart,” he said. His voice wavered.

I nodded, very aware of my arms and legs still wadded between us. But uncurling took a conscious effort. It felt vulnerable.

I was tired of feeling that way.

So, instead, I hugged my knees harder, wringing the air from my lungs. His name came at the end of it, something torn between a whisper and a sob.

“K-Kit?”

I couldn’t find the words to say more.

I didn’t have to. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then murmured against my skin. “I’ve got you, Pen. I’ve always got you.”

His breath was warm and shallow where it puffed across my temple. He held there, his hand still cradling my face, but he didn’t move to close the space between us.

Then, softly—like he didn’t want to sway me either way—he said, “This doesn’t need to go any further.”

I drew another steadying breath, then let it go. I unspooled my body carefully, easing onto my back and opening myself to him. The sheets felt cool against my skin as I bent my knees and parted my thighs, giving him space to settle between them.

“I want it to,” I assured him.

Kit watched me with such tenderness that I nearly turned my face away from the sheer intensity of it. But I didn’t. I met him head-on.

I found myself in the posture he preferred, and I immediately understood why. I needed to see him. Needed to hold his gaze while he hooked one of my knees over his elbow and eased his oiled fingers toward my entrance.

Relax. I knew that. I’d often advised him to do the same. But my only experiences in this position had been as a foolish teenager, rollicking in the hay loft with a partner who cared less for my comfort than his own satisfaction. Imagining those sensations, rough and raw, kept me more tense than I should have been even though I knew Kit would never hurt me that way. No amount of wanting this could rid me of thoughts of that.

So, I cringed and braced for pain as Kit prodded the tight ring of muscle.

“Penny,” he murmured, bending his body over me. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

At his command, I became aware of the burn in my chest and lightness in my head. I exhaled hard and fast at the same moment Kit’s finger slid in.

The intrusion was familiar and yet foreign. I’d done this. Often, before Kit and I became intimate. Had I forgotten it could feel good, too?

I groaned and shifted nearer to him, settling while he stared at the point where his finger entered me. Sparks of pleasure started slow, then built, flooding my mind and pushing out everything else.

I needed no further encouragement to give myself over, and Kit responded by adding a second finger as he worked rhythmically inside me.

When he pulled out, I gasped, and my eyes flew open. I looked down at him as he raised my other leg and pressed forward. His expression was focused and wild all at once. Hungry in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen. It drew me in, and I found myself pushing up on my arms, trying to get nearer.

Our eyes locked the moment before he breached my entrance. The stretch was more than his fingers had been, and I hissed at the sting.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Kit blanched and started to withdraw, but I grabbed his arm to steady him.

“No, don’t stop, just…”

With a prompting pull, he slid deeper, and my words were choked by a moan.

“Gods, Kit,” I stammered.

Kit flicked a glance between my face and where he was seated inside of me. “Okay?” he asked.