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She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to admit anything. He squeezed her tighter, and Grace pushed her hips toward him, wanting more.
“Tell me,” he urged.
The words rose in her throat, but she kept her teeth clenched, her head turned away from him, even as goose bumps chased over her skin. Why couldn’t he just be quiet? Just take what he wanted and let her do the same?
“Please,” he murmured just below her ear. Then he sank to his knees, and his mouth whispered against the curve of her breast. “Tell me.”
She shook her head, but her jaw trembled and she couldn’t keep her teeth clenched anymore. “Yes,” she finally breathed. He sucked at her nipple and she groaned. Then his teeth pressed into her, and something snapped free inside her. “Yes,” she urged. “God, yes. Please.”
He’d let her go to put his hands to her hips, so Grace was free to clutch his head. To dig her nails into his scalp and offer the same pain as his teeth scraping over her sensitive breasts. He swept her shirt higher, both his big hands sliding up her back.
She pulled her shirt and bra off.
“Oh, Jesus,” Cole rasped. “Look at you.”
When she looked down, Cole had put his mouth to the tattoo that snaked up her hip and waist. He slid his mouth along the black branches of the leafless tree that spread all the way to her ribs, stopping just below her breast.
But he didn’t stop there. He caught her nipple in his teeth again, but his hands slid down to unfasten her jeans. Grace held her breath. She was aching and wet, and she felt as if he’d been teasing her for hours, even though he’d first touched her only a few minutes ago. Maybe it was the sight of him on his knees for her, his mouth worshipping her body. She liked that. She liked it a lot.
But when he rose up to his feet and slid his hand into her open jeans, she liked that even more.
His fingers rubbed along her slick sex and she cried out. “You’re so wet for me,” he said. “Does that feel good?”
He knew it did, damn him, because she was whimpering and pressing her hips against his circling fingers. “Tell me what you like.”
She shook her head again, determined to resist this time. He wanted her to give something up. To give in. But she was only going to take. Take the pleasure of his fingers against her clit, rubbing her. Pressing. Her hips jerked in need.
“You like that?” he pressed. “Or this?” He slid his hand lower and suddenly his fingers were deep inside her.
Grace cried out, but she bit her lip, trying to stifle the sound.
“Tell me.”
“No!”
He growled and then his hand was in her hair, turning her head away from him, holding her tight against the door.
Oh, God.
“Tell me.” His mouth wa
s against her ear, whispering. “Tell me what you want.” His fingers slid out of her body, and Grace wanted to weep. She just wanted to get off. Just wanted that one simple thing, but now his fingers were too light against her clit. Just enough pressure to make her whimper, to drive her insane. Not nearly enough to get off.
“Like that?” he asked.
No. No. Not like that. She ground her teeth together. She tried to shake her head.
“More?”
Oh, God, she hated him. Hated him for wanting her to give him something. She wrapped a hand around his wrist and dug her nails in.
“That’s it, honey,” he murmured. “Show me what you like.”
Bastard, she cursed in her mind. But she pressed his hand tighter to her and sobbed in relief when he rubbed her clit with just the right pressure.
“That’s it. That’s what you like.”
Yes. Yes. Just like that.
