Emma:
His hands are still braced on either side of me, his breath rough and uneven, when something inside me shifts — a sharp, aching need to give him what he’s been giving me.
Not just want.
Not just desire.
Need.
I place my palms on his chest and push — gently, but with intent. His brows knit, breath catching, confused for half a heartbeat.
“Emma—?”
I shake my head, eyes locked on his.
“Let me,” I whisper. The words tremble out of me. Soft. Bare. Honest in a way that feels almost dangerous.
His jaw tightens. “Don’t—don’t say things you don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
And then I sink to my knees.
Right in front of him.
His breath stops.Actually stops. His hands jerk toward me like he’s going to pull me up—only he doesn’t. He freezes instead, fingers trembling in
