“I think you’re going to pay for it.”
He takes a slow, purposeful stride toward me, and I stumble backward until I’m flattened against the unpainted portion of the wall. Jesse crowds me against it, then grabs my wrists, pinning my arms above my head. Excitement races through me as my breath turns ragged, and I stare up at him, waiting to see what he’ll do next. His eyes are dark and glittering as they lock on mine. I can see that he wants me as badly as I want him.
“Drop your weapon, Ms. Morgan.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Ms.Morgan?”
“Ms. Morganstern?” He watches me carefully, his face inches from mine. Flames lick through my limbs.
I shake my head slowly.
His grip tightens just hard enough on my wrists.
“Marissa.”
I open my fist and release the roller. It drops to the floor with a clatter, undoubtedly splattering paint all over the tarps I’ve just laid down. I can’t bring myself to care.
One corner of his mouth tilts upward.
“Good girl.”
Fuck.
I don’t know who moves first. The next thing I’m conscious of is the feeling of his mouth on me, staking its claim. Our lips come apart and then find each other again, our kisses frantic and exploratory.
Jesse adjusts his grip to hold both of my wrists in one hand, using the other to angle my face upward. His tongue slides between my lips as his thumb grazes my cheekbone, and I exhale a sigh of happiness into his mouth. I slide my wrists out of his grip and fist the collar of his shirt, bringing him even closer.
“Jesse.” The word comes out breathless and the sound of it seems to push him over the edge, disintegrating the last ounce of his self-control. He shoves his hips forward, pinning me to the wall. His mouth works its way down my neck, then drags across the front of my shirt, nibbling me through the fabric.
I reach down to grab the hem, pulling the shirt over my head before tossing it to the floor. His eyes trace hungrily over newly exposed skin and it occurs to me that he’s still fully dressed. We need to rectify that immediately.
I shove my hands underneath his shirt, palms skating over the ridges of his abs as I lift the cotton. Jesse takes the hint, grabbing the hem of his tee before divesting himself of it. I soak in the sight of his bare chest and somehow, it’s even better than I imagined. He’s authentic and rugged in a way that I’m not used to seeing. The defined pecs and abs are the product of manual labor, not hours spent in the gym with a personal trainer. In place of waxed and bronzed skin, there’s a light coating of dark hair against his chest. Unlike the overly manicured bodies I’m used to, this man is all natural, though still just the right amount of everything.
And right now, he’s mine.
I grab hold of the back of his head, weaving my fingers through his soft curls and guiding him back to my chest. He accepts the invitation gratefully, planting a trail of kisses along the smooth skin of my breastbone.
He slides one hand behind my back to unhook my bra and lets it fall to the floor, exposing me completely. His eyes become hooded as they drift over me, drinking me in.
“So beautiful,” he says, his voice a low scrape.
He dips down to suck one nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing it into a peak, as he works the other with his thumb and forefinger. My head tips backward against the wall as I arch toward him. Jesse swirls his tongue over the hardened bud, savoring me, before switching his attention to my other breast.
The pressure between my legs is building. Desperate for relief, I grab hold of his hand and position it right where I need it. He pulls back and meets my eyes, an unspoken question hanging between us. I give him a small nod, urging him to continue. Needing no further encouragement, he unhooks the button of my denim shorts and slips a hand inside, fingers grazing the dampened fabric of my underwear. My hips, no longer controlled by my brain, rock against him.
“More,” I manage.
Jesse’s eyes are black as he studies me, watching my reaction as his fingers stroke over me, before pressing forward to kiss me again. His tongue dances over mine, slow and seductive. Pushing the flimsy cotton aside, he hooks a finger inside me, swirling his thumb around my swollen nub. I let out a gasp before biting down on his shoulder.
“Let me taste you,” he breathes against my neck. My legs turn to jelly.
He slips an arm behind me, scooping my limp body from the wall, and guiding me over to the ladder that’s still open in the center of the room.
“Up there,” he says. “So I can reach you.”
My mouth drops open as I realize his intention. He keeps his gaze locked on mine as I back slowly up the rungs. When I’m halfway up, he takes hold of my ankle to let me know I’ve gone high enough.
“Lift your hips.” His voice is low and commanding and I readily oblige. It’s clear who’s steering this ship, and for once, I’m happy to surrender control. I can’t remember the last time I let go like this, and it’s absolutely exhilarating.
