Page 60 of People Like Us

“You haven’t touched me since Saturday.” I meant for it to sound accusing, harsh. But instead it sounded whiney and pathetic.

“We danced in my living room yesterday,” his tone was cruelly casual.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” I hissed.

He lifted his hand, pressing his thumb into my bottom lip, pulling it down. “You worried I didn’t like it, Sin?”

I scoffed, but he kept closing in, forcing me to step backward. “Or are you just jealous you couldn’t have me all to yourself yesterday? Need me to tell you how fucking desperate I am to touch you again?” I swallowed tightly. “You’re getting awfully spoiled, Lola. Is your boyfriend not giving you enough attention, need me to fill the gaps for you?”

He took another step, and this time when I stepped back my knees hit the hood of my car, causing me to fall backward. August caught me, his long fingers digging into my thighs. He lifted me instantly, and my arms went around his neck on instinct.

He looked up at me, green eyes glowing as that stupid smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. The hem of my little white dress hiked up to my hips and his long fingers brushed over the damp fabric between my legs. “So fucking needy.” He said, pressing his mouth into the center of my chest.

“August,” I panted.

“Yes, Sin?” he breathed.

“Take me upstairs. Now.” I commanded, and he was already moving.

He pulled my heels off as we went up the stairs, and dropped them by the door, then kicked off his own.

“Now what?” he asked, teasing.

I ran my thumb along his bottom lip as I whispered, “Put me on the couch.”

He moved around the sofa, knelt into the cushion so he could lower me onto it. He hovered above me, staring at me like he was waiting for me to tell him exactly what to do.

“Now say you’re sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling a bit. “But only if you mean it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, dipping to repeat the words against my jaw, down my throat, across my collarbones. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingernails through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me you want me,” I demanded.

His hips lowered to rest against my center, and I could feel the straining heat of him through his jeans. He pushed against me, sending a wave of pleasure to my core. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me.

“I want you more than air. I am so fucking desperate to please you, Lola,” he growled against the column of my neck. “Tell me I can.”

“Beg me, August,” I challenged.

He groaned, loud and hot against my skin, as he bucked his hips into mine again.

“Please, Lola,” he said, his voice caught like he was in pain as he pushed my dress up to expose my stomach. He hooked his thumb into the side of my panties, pulling at them like the white cotton was the only anchor he had in the world. “I want to feel you, taste you, hear you. You can pretend I’m one of those stupid football players if you want—just let me touch you.”

I gripped his hair, pulling him back to force him to look at me. “You are fucking desperate, aren’t you, baby?”

He nodded, pulling his own hair in my grasp.

“So sweet how you always want to take care of me. But I don’t want anyone’s mouth but yours,” I cooed, and he thrust against me, harder this time.

“What happened to all of that attitude you had in the driveway, August?” My full lips fell into a mocking pout. “You seemed awfully determined to be right. Are you sure you didn’t want to talk about it some more?”

He nodded desperately. “I’m sure,” he whimpered.

“Are you going to trust me when I say I’d never do anything to hurt your sister?” I pressed, and he nodded again.

“Yeah, Sin, I trust you.” His smile was too charming, his long canines exposed.

“Show me,” I said, letting go of his hair.