Her cheeks are pink, and her breathing is labored. She stares back at me, need simmering in her dark eyes.
“Did he make you feel like this?” I flick open the button at the top of her jeans before gripping her hip, pushing her boundaries just to see how she’ll react.
She still doesn’t answer, but she lifts one hand—not breaking eye contact—as she reaches down and unzips her pants.
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter roughly, and then I shoot forward, pulling her face to mine as I kiss her—hard, hungry, like I’m trying to erase any trace of him she might still be carrying.
She returns the kiss, no hesitation, no holding back. Her hands fist in my shirt, tugging, demanding.
Suddenly frantic, I turn us, lying her down the length of the bench in one smooth motion.
She makes a surprised noise against my lips when I move over her, but her legs wrap around my hips on instinct.
“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Taking you. Tasting you. It’s been fucking torture,” I mutter against her neck. “Every time you laugh, every time you shoot me one of those snarky looks, when you bite that goddamn lip.”
She grabs my jaw. “That’s what I spent all last night thinking about. In my bed.Alone.”
I’m relieved beyond what I’ve ever felt before. I knew he didn’t stand a chance, but I needed to hear it all the same.
I needed to hear hersayit. That she went home alone. That she thought about this. About me.
Us.
“I think you get off on making me—”
“Emmett.” She grabs my jaw. “Did you storm in here and lock the door just to talk? Stop thinking.”
Then she pulls me back to her mouth, kissing me like she wants to bruise me with it. Her needy moans urge me on.
My hands are everywhere—under her shirt, tracing the soft line of her waist, removing her sandals, tugging at her jeans until she lifts her hips and finally lets me pull them down.
“We don’t have long, but I’m not leaving this fucking room without knowing how you taste,” I growl, getting rid of her pants as efficiently as possible.
“I thought we were staying away from each other?” she murmurs, clearly just as torn as I am. Both of us ready to break every rule we laid out for each other that night in the diner.
I groan when I see her plain white cotton thong. It makes her look far too innocent for all the things I want to do to her.
“This can be a onetime thing. Just to… take the edge off.”
“Yeah. Okay. Definitely. Just to take the edge off.” Her eyes are glassy as she pants out her agreement.
I kneel on the simple plywood floor at the end of the bench and pull her to the edge, one hand gripping each thigh as Ispread her. Pausing, I stare for several beats, any intelligent thoughts shriveling up and dying at the sight before me.
“Fuck, Jules. Looking like this should be illegal.”
“Taking this long should be illegal.”
“Mouthy,” I mutter as I reach forward and hook my fingers in the gusset of her underwear to expose her.
She hisses when the cool air hits her cunt. It makes her clench.
“Fuck.Fuck.You want it bad, don’t you?”
“Emmett—”
I cut her off by pressing my fingertips into the fabric and yanking roughly. My patience is shot, and I want her riding my face as soon as possible. I rip her panties over toned thighs and shove them into my pocket before tugging her closer and dropping my head to take one long, firm lick.
She cries out, and it’s fucking music to my ears.
