“Look at you,” I whisper, my voice low, rough with restraint. “You’re perfect like this.”
She arches up into me, hips pressing forward as if begging for more. I ease two fingers between her folds, circling gently, giving her a chance to breathe through it, but her back bows instead and she cries out softly, her hands fisting in the sheets. She’s already so responsive, every part of her wound tight, begging to come undone.
“Knox,” she whispers, her voice breaking as I slide one finger into her.
I watch her face as her eyes flutter shut, head tilting back against the bed. Her lips part and she moans, low and breathy, and I swear I feel it vibrate straight through my chest. I curl my finger inside her, finding that spot that makes her legs twitch and her hips jerk, then add another, stroki
