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She tried to swallow again, but her throat was too tight.
His scent was all Cage but with an added metallic tinge because of his sweat. She stared at his tattooed chest, which seemed to be pumped up more than normal. She caught herself before she licked her dry lips. Her order of “turn around” came out breathless.
Fuck. That wasn’t too obvious. Nor were her pebbled nipples. She wore a snug camisole and she didn’t even need to look to know they were standing at attention. Begging for his attention.
Cage studied her face for a couple seconds before dropping his gaze right to the evidence. His lips moved slightly, not quite into a smile but close, as he took his time turning around. It was easier for her to check him when he wasn’t staring down at her when she did so.
“Do they hurt at all now?” Damn it, why was she whispering? And why were her fingers trembling?
He shook his head and she became mesmerized by a heavy bead of sweat dripping off his hair and rolling down his spine until it landed in the small of his back and was absorbed by the damp elastic waistband hanging low on his hips.
When she placed her fingers along his ribs where they’d been cracked, the shock of the current between them made her want to rip her hand away in self-preservation. She sucked in a breath and pushed forward.
“Jem...”
God, every freaking time he said her name like that...
It was unfair. She didn’t have a chance. She needed to be stronger. She’d held out this long...
She could do it.
She could make it.
Not much longer.
She cleared her throat in an attempt to get herself together and not fall down the deep and dangerous rabbit hole. “Not even a little?”
He slowly turned and as he did so, her fingers dragged along his hot, damp skin from his ribs to his gut, just like she was working wet clay on a pottery wheel.
His blue eyes were dark, his lips parted. “No.”
She needed to resist.
Resist.
“Good,” slipped from her. So, so good.
When he reached up to cup her face, she knocked his hand away and shoved both palms against his chest. He stumbled backward and landed hard against the wall with a grunt. His eyes went wide as she stalked toward him.
They quickly narrowed. “Not sure if I should be fuckin’ scared or excited.”
“Both,” she answered. Because that was what she was feeling, too.
Excited for the moment, fear for the future.
This could fuck everything up.
This could derail her plans.
This was a bad, bad idea. But right now, she gave up the fight. Threw in the white towel.
She couldn’t resist what was between them anymore.
Whatever it was.
Whether it was simply physical attraction, sexual tension, or more, she didn’t want to know, she just wanted to feel.
She’d deal with whatever it brought afterward. After she got what she wanted. What he wanted.
Finally.
She grabbed his face and pulled him down, taking his lips, shoving her tongue inside to kiss him deeply. To claim his mouth.
Their groans merged as their tongues sparred.
He should stop her. One of them needed to keep their head on straight. One needed to recognize this wasn’t a good idea.
It was no longer her.
So, it had to be him.
But he didn’t stop her when her fingers slid into his hair, gripping firmly enough to keep his mouth where she wanted it, pulling sharply enough it knocked the bandana off his head and to the floor.
Jesus, he tasted too good. His mouth was like cool water in a searing hot desert. She craved it. She couldn’t drink him down fast enough.
Her thirst wasn’t quenched with just a kiss. She wanted more.
She wanted everything.
She just needed to hang onto her plan with her fingernails. No matter what happened, that couldn’t change.
He tugged at her cami, yanking it from her shorts, but it was snug and now damp from his sweat, so she’d have to be peeled out of it.
He managed to do so, yanking it over her head, freeing her breasts while breaking the kiss for only a moment, and dropping it to the floor. He took her mouth this time and his fingers found the button and zipper on her shorts. He undid them, his hands steady, unlike hers as she hung onto him tightly.
She wiggled her hips to help him shove her shorts and panties down as far as he could without separating their mouths. They were both panting now, like she had been his sparring partner. Even though they both struggled for breath, neither could stop tasting, licking, nibbling, searching.
Her nipples ached, her pussy twinged, especially when he drew his finger through her now slick folds. His soft growl filled her mouth and her breath stuttered.
“Need to fuckin’ see you,” he panted as soon as he twisted his head to break the connection of their lips.
