SLOANE
The cold marble of the kitchen counter bit into the back of my thighs as my breathing camw out in short gasps that rattled in my chest. I looked at the kitchen window, somehow terrified that a neighbor might see through the glass, but Jace didn’t give me time to dwell on the what-ifs.
"Relax, Sloane," he whispered, his voice dark and convincing. "You’ve spent enough time being the perfect Captain's wife. For the next hour, you’re just mine."
His hands were large and calloused from years of manual labor, but as he slid them up my legs, his touch was surprisingly light. He didn’t rush. He moved with the practiced ease of a man who knew exactly how a woman was built.
When he reached the throbbing part in-between my legs, his fingers didn't just thrust, they searched. He began to r
