Sienna
His lips trailed down to my neck, slow and claiming, leaving fire in their wake. I clutched at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered, but my body leaned into him all the same. Every second felt louder than the last—the creak of the bed frame, the brush of his hand, my own sharp inhale.
“Jaxon…” I whispered, but it came out more like a plea than a warning.
He lifted his head, eyes locked on mine. That grin of his was gone, replaced with something darker, heavier. “Say stop if you want me to stop.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I pulled him back to me, my lips crashing against his in a kiss. His hand tangled in my hair as he deepened it, his other arm curling around my waist, pulling me under him.
The blanket slipped down, leaving me bare to his touch. My ski
