Chapter 290: On Your Knees

"Sarah—" My old name fell from his lips like a benediction as he buried himself to the hilt with a final thrust. His entire body shuddered, a deep "Unnngh" rumbling from his chest as he emptied himself inside me, his release hot and pulsing.

For several minutes, we lay tangled together, breathing hard, neither willing to move. Eventually, James rolled to his side, bringing me with him, still intimately connected.

"Baby, you're shaking," he murmured, concern lacing his voice as he brushed damp hair from my forehead.

I hadn't even noticed. "I'm okay. Just...intense."

He smiled against my temple. "Stay with me tonight." His arms tightened around me. "Don't go home."

"It's late anyway," I conceded, settling against him. The bone-deep satisfaction combined with the late hour was already making my eyelids heavy. "And I'm exhausted."

"I have a few more things to finish," he said, regret evident in his tone as he reluctantly disentangled himself. "Stay here and rest. I'll join you as soon as I can."

I watched as he redressed, his movements efficient but unhurried. When he bent to kiss my forehead, I caught his hand. "Don't work too hard."

"Nothing I can't handle," he assured me, though the shadows under his eyes told a different story.

***

The sound of running water pulled me from deep sleep. Disoriented, I blinked at unfamiliar surroundings before remembering where I was—James's secret sanctuary within Thornton Tower. Gray morning light filtered through what must have been some kind of light well or artificial window system.

The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out as James emerged with a white towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets clung to his chest and shoulders, tracing paths down the defined muscle. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and stubble darkened his jaw, but even exhausted, he was breathtaking.

"You're awake," he noted, his voice hoarse with fatigue.

"Did you just finish working?" I asked, propping myself up on one elbow.

"Mmm." The affirmative sound was barely audible as he crossed to the bed, dropping the towel carelessly before sliding in beside me. His skin was still warm and damp from the shower as he pulled me against him.

"James," I protested weakly as his hands began to wander. "You can't possibly want—"

"Want? Always." He nuzzled my neck, inhaling deeply. "Capable? Debatable."

I laughed softly, turning to face him. His eyes were already drooping, the brief burst of energy fading fast. "You need sleep."

"Will you stay?" he asked, voice rough with exhaustion. "Just for a little while?"

I glanced at my watch—just after 7 AM. The twins would be fine; I'd arranged for Mrs. Jenkins to take them to Nathan's this morning since they didn't have school today.

"I'll stay," I promised, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead.

"Good." He pulled me closer, burying his face against my neck. His breathing deepened almost immediately, soft snores indicating just how truly exhausted he was.

I lay still in his arms, listening to his breathing, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine. Despite my best efforts to maintain emotional distance, moments like this made it impossible. This version of James—vulnerable, exhausted, clinging to me even in sleep—was impossible to resist.

***

I must have dozed off again because when I next opened my eyes, sunlight was streaming through whatever hidden system brought light into this windowless space. James was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown over his head, the other holding me firmly against him. I checked my watch—nearly 10 AM.

As if sensing my wakefulness, James stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He immediately reached for something on the nightstand—eye drops. I watched as he tilted his head back, administering them with practiced ease. The simple action spoke volumes about the toll his work was taking.

"Hey," he said, his morning voice deliciously rough.

"Why don't you sleep more?" I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. "You've completely shattered my image of Wall Street tycoons."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement sparking in his tired eyes. "And what image is that?"

"Not this." I gestured to his exhausted form. "You're busier than the New York subway system."

He chuckled, dragging a hand down his face. "It's temporary. The company's in crisis mode, but this isn't normal even by Wall Street standards." His expression sobered. "Those glossy magazine profiles and TV dramas? Pure entertainment. No one achieves success without sacrifice. The people who seem to have it all together? They're working twice as hard behind closed doors."

"I understand that," I said softly, reaching out to trace the dark circles under his eyes. "But I still worry about you."

His expression shifted at my words, weariness momentarily replaced by something sharper, more predatory. "Worry? Let me see just how worried you are."

Before I could react, he'd rolled on top of me, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. His teeth grazed the skin there, followed by his tongue, sending shivers down my spine.

"James—hnn—" I couldn't form coherent words as his mouth traced fire down my throat while his fingers made quick work of my borrowed shirt buttons. "You need to rest—"

"You make me forget how tired I am," he whispered, teeth scraping my shoulder. "Feel what you do to me." He pressed his hardness against my thigh, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

His tongue traced the shell of my ear before he whispered, "I want to feel you from behind. Want to hear those little sounds you make when I go deep."

Heat flooded my body, pooling low in my belly at his words. James rarely talked explicitly about what he wanted, making these moments all the more arousing.

"On your knees," he rasped, voice dropping to that velvet-rough command that sent liquid heat straight between my legs.

I rolled over, positioning myself as instructed. The silk sheets felt decadent against my palms as I waited, exposed and vulnerable. James's breath hitched audibly behind me.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, palms sliding up my thighs to cup my ass. "Spread wider for me."

I complied, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as I felt the heat of his gaze on my most intimate places. His thumbs parted me, exposing everything to his view.

"Still wet from earlier," he observed, voice thick. One finger slid through my folds, gathering moisture before pushing inside. "So responsive."

My hips bucked involuntarily. "James—please—"

The head of his cock replaced his fingers, pressing against my entrance but not pushing in. "Say it. Tell me what you need."