Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 61

[Emily’s POV]

My mouth moves lower, kissing down Maddie’s neck, her collarbone, taking my time because we have all night and I want to memorize every sound she makes, every place that makes her breath catch.

I linger at the hollow of her throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath my lips. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer with an urgency that sends heat straight through me, making my own pulse quicken in response.

We’ve done this before—many times—but tonight feels different. Weighted with everything unsaid, everything we’re afraid of, everything that’s coming in two days when we stop hiding and start being honest about what we are to each other.

There’s a desperation in the way she touches me now, like she’s trying to hold onto this moment, to us, before the world rushes in.

I pull back just enough to look at her face, flushed and beautiful in the dim lamplight. “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice rough. “Does your leg hurt? We can stop if—”

“Don’t stop.” Maddie’s fingers tighten in my hair, her eyes dark and desperate. “Please don’t stop. I need this. I need you.”

So I continue kissing my way down her body, hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head and tossing it somewhere that doesn’t matter. She does the same for me, both of us shedding clothes until there’s nothing between us except skin and heat and the sound of our breathing in the quiet room.

I’m careful positioning us so her injured leg is supported by pillows, but Maddie pulls me close with an urgency that says she doesn’t want careful right now. She wants to feel alive, wants to feel something other than fear and uncertainty about what’s coming.

We move together with the familiarity of months but also with desperation—like we’re trying to memorize each other, like this might be the last time even though we both know it won’t be. I know exactly how to touch Maddie, where she needs pressure, where she needs softness, which spots make her gasp and which make her melt.

My hands trail down her stomach, fingers tracing patterns on her hips before moving lower. She gasps and arches into my touch, her hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to leave marks I’ll feel tomorrow.

Her body responds to me like it always does—back arching, breath catching, wetness slick against my fingers as I slide them through her folds, circling but not quite touching where she needs me most.

“Em,” she breathes, and my name sounds like a prayer, like a plea, like everything we can’t say out loud.

When my mouth moves lower still, kissing down her stomach and settling between her thighs, Maddie’s breath catches and she whispers my name again. I take my time, building her up slowly, wanting to give her everything. My tongue finds her clit, circling with deliberate pressure as her hips lift to meet my mouth.

She’s close, so close—I can tell by her breathing, by the way her body tenses, by the desperate sounds escaping her throat.

Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, and I hold her hips steady as I increase the pressure, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on the bundle of nerves that makes her cry out.

When Maddie comes apart, it’s with my name on her lips and tears streaming down her face—not from the pleasure alone but from everything. From love, from fear, from the weight of all we’re carrying and all we’re about to face.

Her body shudders through wave after wave as I hold her through it, gentling my touch until she’s too sensitive, until she’s pulling me up to her.

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