Page 59 of Torin

Her fingers twist into my hair and she kisses me again.

Hard.

Her mouth opens under mine, and then she’s climbing into my lap.

Fuck.

She straddles me, the T-shirt riding high around her hips, and my cock goes painfully hard beneath her.

Hannah feels it. Her breath catches against my mouth.

I stop.

She draws back just enough to look at me. Her pupils blown wide. Then she presses herself against me.

A growl rumbles out of my chest before I can stop it.

Hannah stills.

Shit.

But she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes search mine, and I know the instant the gold hits them because her expression changes.

“Your eyes,” she murmurs.

I force my beast back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.”

That one word nearly fucking kills me. Her fingers tighten in my hair and she kisses me again. I pull her closer, and this time I quit holding back.

Hannah meets me with the same hunger, tugging at my hair, pressing herself closer. The T-shirt has ridden almost to her waist. I slide my hands underneath it and cup her breasts for the very first time.

A sigh escapes her.

Fuck.

She shivers at my touch and reaches for the hem. I help her pull it over her head. It lands somewhere behind the sofa.

Hannah laughs.

Then both of us turn.

Because a truck has just pulled into the yard.

“Shit, Torin, my shirt!”

Hannah scrambles off me, and I reach behind the sofa for it. I hand it to her just as a door slams.

I try to get myself under control before Orson comes around the side of the lodge.

He takes one look at us.

Hannah is busy tugging my T-shirt down over her thighs. I’m still sitting there with a hard-on that’s going to take a while to disappear.

Orson looks away. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you live here,” Hannah says, her cheeks turning pink.