Page 137 of Broken Crown

I followed her down onto the mattress, caging her beneath me, her warmth seeping into my cold bones.

"Sebastian, what are you⁠—"

I didn't want to talk.

I swept my hand under her sweater, sliding over silk then lace to cup her breast, her nipple hardening against my palm.

Her lips moved against mine as she gasped, the sound vibrating through us both.

It was the sweetest sound I could have heard in that moment, and it spurred me on. With more gentleness than I had ever used with her, I swept the sweater over her head to expose the lacy champagne silk chemise I had bought her in Paris.

A surge of possession ran through me, hot and violent. Even while trying to run from me, the warm silk of something I'd purchased embraced her skin.

I slipped my fingers inside the strap and drew it down her shoulder, kissing her creamy skin along the way, until the chemise slipped to expose one perfect breast. I closed my mouth over her nipple, softly sucking as I swept my hand over her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh as if I could mold her to me permanently.

Sabrina moaned and arched her back, her body betraying what her mind fought against.

That's it, baby. Come back to me.

Gripping the waistband, I pulled on her yoga pants. I leaned down and kissed her stomach, then the top of her thigh as I slid to my knees onto the floor. I pulled off her trainers, then the yoga pants and panties, revealing her to me like I was unwrapping the most precious gift.

I then stood. Kicking off my own shoes, I unbuttoned the first few buttons of my shirt and whipped it over my head. Reaching for the button on my trousers, my fingers trembled with barely contained need before lowering my zipper and dropping them to the floor.

Sabrina leaned up on her forearm as she used her other arm to cover her breasts. Her hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders.

She blinked up at me as if coming out of a haze. "This isn't right. We shouldn't⁠—"

I didn't want her to finish that sentence.

I didn't want her to think.

Only feel.

I placed my knee between her open thighs and leaned over her, covering her mouth with my own. Sweeping my tongue inside to swallow any protest she may have, tasting her desperation mingled with desire.

Lifting her slightly and shifting her body until she lay in the center of the bed, I covered her with my warmth, skin against skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

I swept my hand over the curve of her waist to the side of her thigh, lifting her knee so I could feel the brush of her inner thigh against my hip as I deepened the kiss, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.

As my tongue pushed past her lips, I slipped my hand between our bodies to cup her pussy. I slid one finger between the seam, and the sweet cream of her arousal made my cock lengthen and swell, throbbing painfully.

I pushed two fingers inside while I teased her clit with the pad of my thumb, feeling her pulse race beneath that sensitive bundle of nerves.

She moaned against my mouth, the sound of surrender sweeter than any symphony.

No matter if the world burned around us, we still had this.

This primal connection that transcended words and promises.

With measured precision, I slowly thrust my fingers inside of her, building the tension within her core, feeling her inner muscles clench around me, drawing me deeper.

Each small moan, each shift of her hips, each time she fisted the covers beneath her, my control returned.

Control over the situation.

Control over her.

Control over the weakness threatening to consume me.