smell so damn good.” Crosby tugged at my thong, moving so slowly I burned with each drag of his fingers down my thighs. As the lace fell to the floor, Crosby lifted one of my legs and then the other. He took the panties and shoved them into his back pocket. I opened my mouth to protest, but he gripped my thighs. “I need to remember this moment.”
I swallowed but nodded my assent. Crosby kept a firm grip on my quads as if holding me in place. But for a moment, he only stared, taking in every detail of that innermost part of me, seemingly burning it into his memory.
One hand moved, skimming up the inside of my thigh, sending the most pleasant shiver up my spine. His fingers parted me, one dipping inside, just slightly, taking the wetness gathering there and spreading it. He explored and teased, leaving no part left unattended except that most potent bundle of nerves. “Love the way you feel. The softest silk.”
I let out what sounded almost like a mewl.
Crosby chuckled. “You need more?”
“Please.” I would’ve begged at that moment.
Crosby’s hands moved, gripping the backs of my thighs and pulling me to him. My hands flashed out, gripping his shoulders as his tongue met my flesh. This was no teasing exploration. This was a hungry attack. His tongue went straight for my clit, the one place so desperate for touch that I worried one stroke would send me over the edge.
One hand left my thigh. Suddenly, two fingers filled me just as the tip of his tongue flicked that bundle of nerves. My legs shook, and I had to focus on keeping myself upright. My fingers dug into Crosby’s shoulders, a silent plea for more.
Crosby began stroking in a motion that had him hitting that hidden spot inside that made me tremble more violently. My breathing picked up its pace, my heart hammering against my ribs as he pushed in deeper.
I gasped as Crosby’s lips surrounded my clit, sucking hard as his fingers stroked faster, curling just right. It was all I could handle. The world seemed to fall away. Blood roared in my ears. But I could do nothing but feel. Everything went silent. Still. It was my own Universe of sensation.
And I never wanted it to end.
22
Crosby
Watching Kenna straighten her hair was hypnotic. The smooth, downward strokes, the flick of her delicate wrist. I still hated it. It was as if she were hiding some part of herself away. And what she hid was the part of her that called to me on some primal level.
“Why do you do that with your hair?”
Kenna’s lips thinned. She had this dainty little vanity thing in her bedroom, and I had the perfect view of her reflection from my spot on her bed. She’d let me stay the night this time. Well, not so much let since we’d nearly collapsed after last night’s festivities, and she’d passed out before she could utter the words “get out.” But I was still taking it as a win.
She moved the hair tool over another section of her mahogany locks. “I told you, I like it straight. It’s easier to deal with that way.”
More like it was easier to control. To fit into that neat little box she was determined to mold herself into. But Kenna couldn’t be contained by any rigid rules or boundaries. She just hadn’t seen what a gift that was yet. That her strength, her fire, her empathy, they weren’t things to hide away. They were the most beautiful things about her. “One day, I’m going to get you to rock the curls.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” She set the tool down, clicking it off and then unplugging it. Moving on to makeup.
“When’s the last time you wore it wild?”
A shadow passed over her eyes, a signal that she was shutting down. “I don’t know. Probably when I was sick or something.”
There was a tone to Kenna’s voice when she lied, a slightly higher pitch that gave her away. Why she’d lie about that, I had no idea. I tensed. “Did Grant like it curly or something?”
Kenna’s hand, holding a makeup brush, froze halfway to her face. “No. He liked it straight. Why does it matter what he liked or not?”
“It doesn’t. I just—trying to figure out that shadow that’s in your eyes sometimes.”
Her movements were stiff as she continued applying eye shadow. “Just woolgathering. You know better than most that not all my memories are