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“All I can think about is making you scream my name again. And I want to hear that sexy little moan you let out when you come. It can’t possibly be as hot as I remember it being. I want to make you come, again and again, until the urge is dead, and I can go back to not wanting to rip your clothes off every time I see you,” he said, his hand slipping down to cup her butt and pull her impossibly closer. “But if you don’t feel the same way, say the word. I’ll never mention how fucking hot you look when you come, or how badly I want to bury my dick inside of you, this time when I’m sober enough to know exactly what I’m doing and why. Just say the word.”

A small moan escaped her.

She couldn’t help it. And he was right.

The urge to see him naked again was ridiculously strong. So maybe she was wrong about avoiding doing it again. Maybe if they banged it out of their systems, they could go back to being the platonic friends they had been before they succumbed to their desires. Neither of them were the type to get attached or addicted to their lovers, so it was only a matter of time until they both got this overwhelming desire out of their systems.

Maybe this was the only way to get back to square one.

Even as she talked herself into ignoring the warnin

g signs yet again, a small voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up. It kept asking…

But what if it made it worse?

“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered. “I wanna fuck you again. Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

He backed her against the counter, his focus locked on her mouth. “Why does that scare you?”

“It just does.”

He cupped her butt and lifted her up onto the counter next to her office, which had pens and paper scattered across it. Since she didn’t use this surface for baking, she didn’t stop him. “Because…?”

“When you’re done with a woman, you walk away. You leave, and you don’t come back. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you,” she said, opting for complete honesty. She’d stretched the truth once. She wouldn’t do it again. “You mean too much to me. I wouldn’t survive the loss. There would be a big, gaping hole in my world that would never be filled.”

He buried his face in her neck, stepping between her legs. His hard erection brushed up against her, making it a lot harder to listen to those screaming warning thoughts. “What about if I promise—fucking promise—you won’t lose me? I can. I do. I will never, ever, leave you, Lauren. I swear it.”

She sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t make promises. Didn’t like the pressure, or the implied trap such a thing meant. So the fact that he did so, now, was not lost on her. And all the fight left her. He promised she wouldn’t lose him.

And if she trusted him, which she did, and she still desired him, which she also did, what was holding her back? If she had nothing to lose…

What was stopping her?

Chapter Twelve

The internal battle she fought fleeted across her beautiful face. He’d struggled with it all night long, too, after she fell asleep. Even though he was being an even bigger asshole by giving in to his desire, nothing could stop him from doing it anyway. There was a hell of a lot at stake here, and he stood to lose everything…

But he could maybe gain a hell of a lot, too.

When he came here, he’d sworn he would keep his hands to himself. He had a plan. A course of action in place. Clean up his act. Keep his dick in his pants. Get the girl.

But then he got here, and she was beautiful, and all plans fled.

He had to have her.

“Lauren,” he breathed, gripping her thighs. He stood between them, seconds from heaven, but she hadn’t invited him in yet. “I’m gonna make you come, again and again. It’s all I can think about ever since you kissed me. You. Me. Naked. Together. Now.”

After what seemed like a million years, she nodded her head. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he said. He pressed against her again, his fingers digging into her thighs. “You have to say it.”

She slid her hands down his chest and latched onto his sides right above his hips, in that same spot that he’d obsessed over on her all night long. “I want you. I’m all yours.”

Growling, he captured her mouth, seizing the moment and refusing to let it go. She strained to get closer to him, but he held her firmly in place. His tongue entwined with hers, and he thrust against her. She moaned, and it drove him insane. It was just so damn sexy. After he left this morning, she put on a skirt, thank God, so he slid his hands up and inward, tracing her slit with his thumb.

She was wet and warm and ready—but she wouldn’t get him.

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