Page 38 of Naz & Roz

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Naz wasn’t about to let her be shy now. Not two minutes ago, she had been more than willing to try and fuck him in the woods. She had it in her—she just needed a little help to bring the wild out.

Naz was damn good at being wild.

“Tell me,” he murmured. “What do you think about when you’re touching yourself, hmm? Go on, tell me.”

Roz blinked. “You.”

“Me.”

“You,” she echoed. “I think about you, and it makes me shake.”

Hell yeah, that’s what he wanted to hear.

His lips crashed against hers hard. There was nothing nice or soft or easy about the kiss. Gone was the way he wanted to taste and enjoy the moment. How could he give a shit about that when her fingernails were digging into his jaw as she pulled him impossibly closer, and kissed him back like it was the breath she needed in her lungs to live.

It was addictive.

Amazing.

So fucking crazy.

His hands had a mind of their own. Skimming under the skirt of her dress to push the flimsy fabric higher around her thighs, so his fingers could inch closer to heaven. Roz’s teeth nipped into his lower lip before she pulled that beanie from his head to get her hands wrapped up in his hair.

His fingertips found her warm and damp overtop her cotton panties. Unashamed and fucking perfect, she ground against the feeling of his hand stroking her where she wanted him the most.

Where had that shyness gone now?

Naz was glad it left.

Her hand came down to meet with his before slipping beneath her panties. The wet heat of her sex met his fingertips. Slick, and so fucking sleek. The soft, trimmed hair grazed his palm as she pressed her body harder against his hand.

“More,” Roz demanded.

Christ.

He couldn’t possibly deny her when she sounded like that. His fingers found her sweetest spot—tight, warm and wet. And he felt her own hand circle and press and stroke. Until she was shaking, mumbling his name, and looking sweeter than ever.

Roz really did make the best kind of music.