In His Bed On My Knees
“You look good there,” he murmured. “In my bed. Wearing something of mine.”
I sat up slowly, heart pounding like I’d already been caught doing something filthy. His eyes dropped to the slip of skin at my thigh where my dress had ridden up, and I swear he swallowed a groan. Then he crossed the room—silent, towering, dangerous—and hooked a finger under my chin.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice raw.
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
The next thing I knew, I was on my back, his hands sliding up my legs like he had every right to touch me—slow, reverent, possessive. His mouth claimed mine first, then trailed down—between my chest, my stomach—until I was gasping his name like a prayer.
“You’ve been in my bed long before tonight, Asha,” he whispered against my inner thigh. “In my head. My hands. My dreams.”
And when he finally pushed inside me—deep, slow, like he wanted to feel every part of me—I shattered. And he didn’t stop. He kept going, murmuring my name like a promise, like he knew exactly what I was about to find out…
*******
I didn’t mean to fall asleep in his bed.
I’d only curled up for a second—with his shirt pressed to my face, his scent wrapped around me like heat—and I drifted. But when I opened my eyes, he was standing there.
Kade Renner. The elusive billionaire. Cold eyes. Bare chest. Leaning against the doorframe like he owned the air I breathed.
He’s been searching for me.
And now that he has me?
Kade Renner doesn’t share. And he never lets go.
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