“Luckiest bastard alive?” I repeated, tilting my head as I took the mug from him — fingers brushing his on purpose, slow and lingering. “You sure about that?”
Ansel narrowed his eyes, suspicion already creeping in. “Juniper.”
But I just sipped from the mug with infuriating innocence. And then —then— I set it down behind me, hooked my ankles around his calves again, and yanked him back in.
Hard.
He stumbled forward with a grunt, hands catching the edge of the counter on either side of my thighs. And I wasted no time — slipping my hands under his shirt again, dragging my nails across his abs like I could carve my initials into him.
“Jesus,” he hissed.
“Still want that movie night, cowboy?” I asked sweetly, trailingone hand down to his waistband — and lower, fingers cupping him through his jeans. “Still want to take your time?”
Hetwitchedin my hand.
Literally.
Fuck.
His eyes rolled halfway back in his head as his hips bucked once, instinctual. Then he gripped the counterhard, jaw locked like he was physically restraining himself from tearing my clothes off and bending me over the stove.
I would have givenanythingto have him bend me over his stove.
“Junebug—”
“Because I can be patient,” I lied, mouthing at his throat. “Ican.But I’m also really, really good at being bad.”
My fingers squeezed deliberately, and his entire bodyshuddered.He was glorious.
“You are playing withfire,” he growled, voice low and wrecked.
I just smiled, licking a stripe up his throat. “Then burn with me.”
His hand flew to my wrist — not to pull me away, but tostillme, just for a second. Just so he could breathe. “You’re killing me,” he muttered.
“You like it,” I whispered. And when I shifted my hips — letting him feel exactly how wet I was through the thin barrier of my pajamas — hewhimpered.
Literally.Whimpered.
My mouth waswatering.
Then, slowly, torturously, I ground against him.
Ansel’s forehead dropped to my shoulder, whole body trembling. “You are the goddamn devil.”
“And you love me.”
“I do,” he groaned. “God help me, I do.”
I grinned wickedly. “Then touch me like you mean it.”
He groaned, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, stormy, full of everything he wanted but refused to take. “Not yet. Not like this.”
His forehead dipped to rest against mine. “I want you like a goddamn addict. But when I have you… it’s going to be the way you deserve. Slow. Real. Not rushed by adrenaline or half-remembered nights or?—”
“Shhh,” I pressed a finger to his lips. “Okay, Ansel. Okay. Let’s watch that movie.”
CHAPTER 49
