And fuck I wanted to try over and over again.

Her fingers went from still to swift, unbuckling the leather and tugging it from my hips. I kissed her harder as her touch dropped lower, popping open the button before following the metal teeth of my zipper and unlatching each tooth with a tease.

Damn her for changing before coming here. If she still wore her dress, I could’ve just pushed up the material and thrust inside her. Now I had to fumble and wait. And I couldn’t wait. The desire to take her almost buckled me.

My headache pounded as I cupped her hot core through the denim. Her legs opened further, sensual and sexy.

Blood flowed faster to my cock, leaving my damaged brain gasping for help. The smog I couldn’t seem to shake clouded thicker, pressing on the back of my eyes.

Keep it together.

I couldn’t pass out again. I had no doubt the next time Cleo would admit me to a hospital. I’d wake up to countless tests on my horizon rather than the final pieces of my intricate puzzle.

No. I had to stay whole for a few more days—then I could relax.

Then stop this.

I paused, testing my self-control.

My hands moved on their own accord.

I have no self-control where she’s concerned.

Undoing her jeans was nowhere near as quick and streamline as she’d undone mine. A small laugh escaped her as I finally fumbled and won, yanking both her jeans and panties down her legs.

“Wait—what if someone walks in?”

I kissed her again, unable to look at her wet pussy without shuddering with need. “They won’t. They’ll all be busy organizing tonight.”

“What—what’s going to—”

I interrupted her question by brushing my thumb against her clit and slowly sliding a finger inside her.

Her hands clutched my shoulders. “Oh.”

I groaned as her inner muscles clenched around my finger. I bit her neck, forcing her body to arch and her hips to ride my hand.

“Wait—”

I pressed another finger inside her.

“We shouldn’t do this. You’re still concussed.”

My cock was past fucking caring.

The way she gasped and flinched—I couldn’t stop now. I wanted her so fucking much. “Stop thinking,” I commanded, licking my way down her throat and nuzzling my face into her cleavage.

“But, Art—I’m worried about you.” She sucked in a breath as I sucked her nipple through her T-shirt. Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me tight against her breasts. “We … we should stop.”

I chuckled.

Her words said one thing but her body entirely another.

“You sure?” I twisted my fingers, rubbing her G-spot.

Her legs went bowstring stiff; a small cry escaped.

“Yes …”

I did it again, moving my fingers and rubbing her clit in the way I knew she loved.

“Yes, we should—ah …”

“Stop?” I smiled against her mouth. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

She nodded drunkenly. “Yes. We really need to—” My touch switched from teasing to demanding. I thrust my finger inside her, grinding my aching cock against the table ledge.

Fuck, I need her.

Her head flopped backward. “Oh, don’t stop. Please …”

Her beg completely undid me.

Stroking her slippery wetness, I never stopped coaxing her orgasm, massaging her clit, and playing her body to the music I so badly needed.

“I … I need you inside me, Kill.”

Kill.

All this time she’d called me Arthur—ever since I stopped being an asshole and finally believed the truth, of course. I couldn’t lie that having her call me Kill turned me the fuck on.

I didn’t say a word as she grabbed the waistband of my boxers and jeans and pushed them to mid-thigh. Her eyes opened, blazing with forest fires. “I’m begging you. I need you inside me.”

I gritted my teeth as she rode my hand. “If I take you, I won’t last long.”

“I don’t care. I just need you.” Wrapping her legs around my thighs, she slid closer. Her hand latched around my length as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against my chest.

Withdrawing my fingers, I shoved her top up, rolling the weight of her breasts as they swung like sinful pendulums.

Does she have any idea the effect she has on me? Her commanding presence, her effortless grace and courage? It utterly fucking destroyed me.

Bending my knees, I allowed her to guide my cock to nudge against her entrance. We both stopped breathing as the tip of me slid into her wetness. Her eyes fought to close but we never looked away as her body slowly welcomed me.

We quivered as inch by inch her body melted with pleasure. She was born for me. This perfect fucking woman was born for me.

My Sagittarius.

Her Libran.

“I love you,” she whispered as I sheathed to the root inside her.

My heartbeat exceeded all rhythm. My head throbbed in perfect harmony but all I could think about was the joyous feeling of home.

I groaned as she leaned back on her elbows, giving herself up to me like a brilliant sacrifice. The view of her—with her T-shirt pushed up, her legs spread, and me deep inside her—almost sent my vision skittering into the void again.

Her fingers darted between her folds, and, locking eyes with mine, she rubbed her clit. “I’m so close. So close. Don’t hold back.”

A growl echoed in my chest. Watching her touch herself threatened to shove me over the edge without moving.