I could still breathe, but barely.
I finally touched him, felt just how hard that chest was, touched the ink all over his skin, the heat that burned from his flesh. I gripped his wrist and squeezed as he f****d me into the pillows, as his strong physique tightened and shifted, his physicality so unrealistic it seemed fake.
He moved his thumb up my throat to the corner of my mouth. He squeezed again before he let me go, before his hand found a home in my messy hair.
I cupped the side of his face as I planted my other hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his mass. “f**k, Bastien…” This man was a complete stranger, but I moaned his name like he was my long-term lover, like I’d loved him for a lifetime, had already given him sons and daughters. I should feel guilty for being wit
