Wright:
Her breath shakes against my mouth, the smallest, most intoxicating tremor.
“Gabe…” A plea. A surrender. But not the words I’m waiting for.
I drag my knuckles slowly down her throat, feeling her swallow, feeling the way her pulse leaps.
“Tell me,” I murmur, “exactly what you want.”
She squeezes her eyes shut for a heartbeat — embarrassed, overwhelmed — then opens them again, huge and glassy and burning straight through me.
“I want…”Her voice breaks. She tries again.
“I want you,” she whispers.
I tilt her chin up with two fingers.
“Too vague.”
She inhales sharply. Her knees tighten around my hips. Her fingers curl in my shirt like they’re afraid I’ll pull away again.
“Emma,” I breathe, “use your words.”
Her lips tremble.
“You want me to forget every rule?” I brush my mo
