Page 45 of Craving the Edge

Her back arched, her own cry tearing through the thick air as her climax peaked. That final, tight clench of her body around mine shoved me right over the edge.

My release hit in long, shuddering waves that stole the breath from my lungs. My vision blurred, my world narrowing to the exquisite friction of her body milking mine. I buried myself as deep as I could go. My arms trembled, locking to hold my weight as the last of the pleasure wracked my body.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by our ragged breaths. For a long moment, I stayed there, my forehead pressed to hers, before my strength gave out. I collapsed onto the mattress beside her, my chest heaving. My arm slid under her, pulling her sweaty body tight against my chest. Her head found the hollow of my shoulder, and she curled into my side.

“Fuck me,” I rasped. “If it’s this good eery time, I don’t know how I’m ever going to get out of this fucking bed.”

Char laughed, a beautiful sound that had my head turning to kiss her.

“I never knew I could feel so good,” she murmured.

I licked at the salt on her skin. “Say it again.”

She squirmed against me. “Declan.”

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

She pushed back just enough to look up, her eyes searching my face. “Losing myself,” she whispered.

My brain was too fried with pleasure to ask what she meant. I just pulled her back in, holding her tight.

A minute later, Char shifted, sliding out from under my arm. “I’m going to have a shower.”

“My place is your place,” I told her. “Do you have to be at the gym today?”

“We open at nine.”

“So that’s a yes?”

She sat up, her dark hair falling forward over her shoulders, and raked her gaze over me. “Unfortunately.”

I smirked and rubbed my hand on her thigh. I wanted to tell her to fuck the gym and stay here with me all day, but I knew that place was important to her, so I caved. “I’ll give you a ride.”

She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “Thanks.” Then she climbed out of bed.

I watched her go, already feeling cold. The morning light traced the elegant line of her back, and the tight curve of her arse. She moved with purpose, even when she was naked. The sight of her sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to my cock. I was hard all over again.

I’d never get enough of her. Not in a million years.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and I heard the rush of water. I was thinking about joining her, imagining pressing her up against the tiled wall, rubbing soap between her legs…when my phone started to ring.

I reached for it and cursed when I saw Rhys’ name on the screen. My cock instantly softened.

I stabbed the green icon on the screen. “What?”

“Good news,” Rhys said. His voice was bright, almost cheerful. An unsettling sound coming from him. “The results from the scan came through. I just got off the phone with the specialist.”

“It’s seven on a Sunday morning,” I said. “Have you been up all night frothing over my fucking hand?”

“Yeah. This is important, Declan.” He sighed. “What have you been doing all night?”

“Fucking.”

Rhys said nothing to that and just said, “It’s not a fracture. It’s a severe bone bruise across the metacarpal heads. Acute synovitis in the knuckles. There’s bad inflammation, but it’s manageable.”

Manageable. The word landed like a stone.

“We’ll get you another cortisone shot,” Rhys went on. “We’ll adjust your training. No heavy bag work for the right hand, more focus on your left hook and footwork, like you’ve already been doing. I know you know what you’re doing, but I’ve called in a coach to make a plan for this last week. We can work around this.”