“Tell me to stop.”
“I can’t,” I resolve.
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t say I don’t want you.”
“Why?”
“Because I do,” I confess.
“Fucking finally, fighter.” His soft lips find mine. His kisses start soft and then turn greedy. The taste of mint spreads across my tongue.
“I want you to teach me everything you can teach me.”
“Such a needy little student.” His hand wraps behind me, and he slides me closer to him. I can feel him get hard through his pants.
I surrender to him completely, letting him teach me a different kind of choreography.
His fingers tangle in my hair and tug—a sharp, sweet ache that sparks down my spine. I gasp.
He rocks against me. I wish we were already naked. “First lesson,” he says with a heavy breath against my neck. “Your body betrays you.”
I force myself to watch him, but as his hands inch up toward my jaw, my eyelids flutter open and closed. I swallow the moan at the edge of my throat, but as his thumb presses into the soft spot below my ear, I let it slip.
“The way you lean in—” He demonstrates by pulling back, making me chase his touch. “The dilation of your pupils—” His other hand skims my collarbone. “And all these breathy moans—” He presses harder against my throat. “Caught right here. Let go.”
All the blood rushes to my head. I can’t think or breathe; I’m just consumed by his touch.
He reaches for my waistband, his fingers brushing my bare skin. I nod, lifting my hips. He takes his time, sliding the fabric down inch by torturous inch. The air feels cool against my exposed skin. My sweatshirt follows, and I shiver—from the cold or anticipation, I’m not sure.
His eyes rake over me, drinking in every detail. “Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth.
Through my thin cotton bra, his thumb traces slow circles.
I love the way he’s staring at me. It makes me feel strong seeing him so consumed in me like this.
I buck toward him, inhaling his smoky skin, my new favorite scent. His chest is firm against mine, all solid muscle beneath his shirt. I ache for him to touch me. I want to scream at him too, but my voice is lost at the moment.
I reach for him, my palm pressing against his hard length through his sweats. Heat pools low in my belly at how thick he feels.
He grips my wrists hard, pinning them to the table.
A warning. A promise.
“What did I tell you about touching things you aren’t supposed to?” He exhales, his arousal apparent. He’s holding himself back, and I don’t want him to.
I try to form words, but all that comes out is a small, needy sound. “But—”
“I’ll give you what you want.” He cups my waist. “I’ll let you misbehave, since that’s what you’ve been begging for.” The words leave me raw, exposed. No one has ever seen me like this.
“I didn’t beg.”
“No?” A soft laugh, dangerous and low. His hand disappears below, ghosting along the elastic of my panties. My nipples harden, and his gaze skims down the length of me. I’m exposed. “Here in the armory, where anyone with a key could walk in, when we probably shouldn’t do this at all?”
We could be caught, but the thought intensifies my need for him. I’ve been good for too long.
“Or maybe we should see how much you want this,” he says. I nod. The edge of the table digs into my palms as I brace myself, heart thundering. Fear and want tangle in my chest. “You like that, don’t you? Being naughty with me?”
