Let Me Worship Your Body
ARIANA’S POV
The door clicked shut behind us.
And before I could even blink, Hardin turned.
His eyes—dark with hunger and something primal—locked on mine.
My breath caught.
Then, without a word, he strode toward me, hands curling around my waist as he lifted me clean off the floor, my dress fluttering around us.
A gasp escaped me, but it was swallowed by his mouth as his lips crashed onto mine.
Hot. Wild. Starved.
I barely had time to wrap my arms around his neck before my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, anchoring myself to the solid strength of his body. He held me like I weighed nothing, like I was something precious and breakable—but the way he kissed me?
There was nothing gentle about that.
I moaned against his mouth, fingers digging into his hair, and he growled low in his throat. The sound ignited a fire in my core.
I couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t want to.
He walked us to the bed, not breaking the kiss for a second. And when he sat down, I was straddling him, fingers gripping his shoulders, our lips still locked like we were drowning in each other.
My hips shifted automatically, grinding down on the hard length pressing against his pants.
A whimper broke from my throat.
He caught it with another kiss.
Hotter this time. Deeper.
I kissed him harder, more desperately, tasting the weeks of waiting, of frustration and need and wanting him so badly it hurt.
But then—he pulled back slightly, cupping my face in both hands.
“Easy there,” he murmured, breathless.
I pouted, grinding against him one more time for good measure. “You haven’t touched me for weeks,” I complained. “Always saying I was healing. But I’m fine now.”
He chuckled, low and dark, and then bit his lower lip as he stared at me—like he couldn’t believe I was real.
His thumb brushed over my mouth, slow and teasing. “You’re so impatient.”
“I missed you,” I whispered, brushing my nose against his. “Missed this.”
He exhaled hard, like he was trying to control himself. Then his thumb dragged over my lips again—rougher this time—and he leaned in until his mouth was just a breath away.
“I want to take my time tonight,” he said, voice low and serious. “I want to worship your body.”
My entire body shivered.
Then, in one smooth motion, he turned us over, laying me gently against the mattress like I was something sacred.
He hovered above me, eyes raking over every inch of my body.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, fingers trailing down my cheek, over my collarbone, then lower.
He knelt beside me and slowly started to undress me—not hurried, not rushed.
Like unwrapping a gift he’d waited far too long to touch.
He eased the straps of my dress down my shoulders, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. My breathing grew shallow as the silk slid down, inch by agonizing inch.
Then it pooled at my hips.
He leaned in and kissed the top of my belly—so gently I nearly cried.
His hand settled there for a second, protective and reverent.
Then the dress was gone.
And I was completely bare beneath his gaze.
He let out a low hiss of air and dragged his hand from my ankle up my leg, his touch slow and possessive, until he reached the heat between my thighs.
My hips twitched.
“Open for me,” he whispered.
I did.
Immediately.
Because I needed him.
His fingers slid between my folds, teasing my clit in a slow, swirling rhythm that made me tremble. I whimpered, clutching the sheets.
“Hardin,” I breathed, “please—”
He smiled wickedly, eyes burning. “I love hearing you beg.”
Then he bent forward, kissing my inner thighs before moving higher, pressing a kiss to one breast, then the other.
He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue, biting softly until I arched off the bed.
His free hand cupped the other breast, rolling it between his fingers as his mouth worked me into a fever.
By the time he trailed his tongue down my stomach, I was shaking.
Desperate.
Drenched.
He slid down between my thighs and looked up at me with fire in his eyes. Then he gripped my thighs, pushed them open wider, and lowered his mouth to my center.
The first stroke of his tongue made me cry out.
The second made my legs lock around his shoulders.
And by the third, I was a moaning, gasping mess, writhing beneath his touch as he licked and sucked like a man possessed.
He fisted his hands in my thighs, holding me still while he ate me like he was starving, tongue working in perfect rhythm with his fingers.
“Oh—God—Hardin—”
My back bowed.
My head snapped back.
The orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over every nerve, leaving me trembling and breathless and drenched in sweat.
I collapsed back, panting.
He licked his lips, eyes hooded, and crawled up over me slowly like a predator stalking his prey.
“That’s one,” he whispered, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I’m just getting started.”
“Really?” I breathed, blinking at him through a haze.
He chuckled wickedly, then stood at the edge of the bed and began to undress.
Deliberately.
Tormentingly slow.
He pulled off his shirt, revealing that broad chest, those tattoos, those abs I could trace with my tongue for days. Then his hands slid to his belt, and he took his time undoing it, keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time.
When he finally dropped his pants and boxers, my breath hitched.
“Take a picture,” he said, smirking. “It’ll last longer.”
I laughed, biting my lip. “Oh, believe me. It’s already burned into my memory.”
He climbed back onto the bed, crawling up my body like sin incarnate.
His hand braced beside my head as he kissed me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
Then he nudged his hips forward, teasing me with the thick length of him until I was grinding up, silently begging.
When he finally slid into me—inch by inch, slow and claiming—our mouths both fell open in perfect, desperate moans.
It felt like coming home.
He filled me completely.
Perfectly.
My nails dragged down his back as his hips began to move, rolling slowly, his strokes deep and deliberate. He kissed me again, sweet and wet, like he needed it to breathe.
“Hardin,” I whimpered, arching beneath him.
He kissed down my jaw, whispered against my neck. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”
His thrusts picked up pace, hips rocking into mine harder now, and I wrapped my legs around his waist again, clinging to him like my life depended on it.
It was wild. Passionate.
But so full of love, it made my heart ache.
He kissed me with every stroke, fingers tangled in my hair, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm—like we were made for this. For each other.
I could feel myself climbing again, every nerve lit up, every sense stretched to the edge.
“Come for me,” he growled in my ear. “Let go, baby.”
And I did.
With a cry that shattered in his mouth, I came hard, clenching around him.
He followed with a grunt, burying himself deep, moaning my name against my lips as he spilled into me, his body trembling above mine.
We collapsed together, tangled and sweaty and breathless.
For a long moment, the only sound was our hearts pounding in sync.
His forehead pressed to mine, our lips brushing as he whispered, voice raw and wrecked—
“I’m the most fucking lucky man alive. I’m going to have you forever.”
Tears filled my eyes again.
But this time… they were only from happiness.
“I’m yours,” I whispered back, cupping his face. “Forever.”
He kissed me again, slower this time.
Tender.
Like he was sealing a promise between us.
And he was.
Because this wasn’t just heat.
Or lust.
Or even love.
This was everything.
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