I shake my head because I don’t think I can take another secret.
He lets go of my hand only to slide both palms to my hips, turning me, pinning my back softly—yet firmly—against the solid wood of his door. The shock of it sends heat surging down my spine, forcing my gaze up to his.
“I want you,” he says, eyes burning straight through me. His hand rises to cup my face, thumb stroking along my jaw with disarming gentleness.
The rough pad of his thumb drags across my bottom lip, and something inside me twists.
This isn’t the Emmett I know. This version is rougher, darker—his pupils are blown wide, swallowing the icy gray of his eyes.
“I want too much,” he confesses, voice rough. “I want things I shouldn’t. I want—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “Never mind. It doesn’t fucking matter what I want.”
The emotion in his eyes mirrors my own. I should be shocked. I should be terrified and push him away. Instead, a molten ache unfurls between my thighs.
Because all I want tonight is to stop thinking. Stop hurting. Stop seeing Wesley every time I close my eyes.
I want to erase all of it.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, but his hands never leave me. “Goddammit, I’m sorry.”
I shake my head slowly, clutching the solid wall of his chest. “I want too much, too.”
His eyes flare—and then he grabs my face in both hands, crushing his mouth to mine.
I kiss him back, desperate and greedy, like I want the heat of it to burn everything else away. My hands slide down his sides, tugging at his shirt, needing him closer.
He tilts my head, deepening the kiss.
Like Wesley did.
The memory sends shivers through me, vivid enough that I almost pull away. But then Emmett’s tongue gently sweeps against my lips, coaxing, and I give in, matching the filthy rhythm he sets. He tastes like tequila and sin and nothing like the mouth I’ve been craving, but I concede.
My hand fumbles behind me for the doorknob. The second it clicks open, he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me into his room.
He kicks the door shut and lowers me onto his bed, following me down, mouth still fused to mine.
“Shhh,” I murmur, laughing under my breath, the warning lazy and unconvincing against his mouth. “You’re going to get us caught.”
I say it like I’m playing a role—like the part of me that usually knows better is already a little too far gone.
“The punishment would be worth it.” His mouth lightly trails along my neck as he pulls away.
For a split second, I think he’s stopping. But then he flashes a slow, wicked smirk and reaches behind his shoulders, tugging off his shirt. He drags the moment out, muscles flexing as he throws it aside.
Fuck me. Why is that so hot?
My thighs clench. I push up on my elbows to watch him kick off his boots, unapologetically licking my bottom lip as he unbuckles his belt. His eyes stay locked on mine when he steps out of his jeans, and my breath stutters at the sight of him—at the thick outline of him pushing against the thin cotton of his briefs, leaving nothing to my imagination.
A flush creeps across my chest.
I want him. I need him to ruin me. To use me like I’m using him. An all-consuming hunger blooms deep inside me as he crawls over me. I meet him halfway, crashing my mouth into his as his fingers tangle into my hair.
I break the kiss only long enough to sit up, raise my arms in the air, and wiggle my fingers.
We’re both panting and he grins, grabbing the hem of my tank top and slowly peeling it up and over my head. His eyes rake over me, drinking me in.
I lie back, lifting my hips in silent invitation.
He bites his lip, gaze flicking away. Then he yanks my shorts off in one rough pull and his mouth is on my neck—biting, licking, leaving fire in his wake.
