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I don’t need slow and steady. I don’t need him savouring me. I don’t need time to reconsider.
I want it hard and fast—no thought permitted.
I pull at my wrists, still encased in his grip, drop my head forward. But my lips are silenced by what I see. Cain. He is heaven and hell all rolled into one. All strength and sinew, carnal and lascivious. His chiselled jawline emphasised as his mouth works over me, his eyes darkly intense as he focuses on drawing out my nipples, making them beg, making me beg.
I whimper and his eyes shoot to my face, their fierce intensity making my belly contract. The heated swell down low, so rampant I bite down on my bottom lip and watch his eyes flare in response.
I feel like he’s testing me, pushing me, silently asking: can we do this?
I have no answer. Hell, he hasn’t even put a voice to the question. But I feel it all the same. The question pulses through me, urging me to decide.
Can we?
Yes.
Should we?
No.
My fingers clutch the back of his head, his thumb rolls over me, and I want to cry and moan and say to hell with it. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, that question still blazing as he scrapes one protruding nipple with the edges of his teeth. Heat surges to meet his bite, pleasure on its tail. Pleasure and pain, desire and need. Then he launches back up to my mouth, his tongue delving inside, twisting with my own, making me whimper, making me fight back. Fencing, entwining...
Oh, God, yes.
He’s back at my throat, my breast, my mouth again. I follow his every caress, and now I’m the one savouring every single touch as if it will suddenly expire—because it will. I know it will. There is no future here. Just like seven years ago, it will be whisked away. There’ll be no warning. No nothing.
I claw his skull as pain spears me.
Stop thinking. Just feel.
He’s crazy over me. His movements are frantic, as though he can’t get enough of every part of me and he wants me all at once. I know that feeling. My lower body is grinding against his hardness, pleading for release, and he’s meeting me. The hard length of his cock joins me at every rise and fall...our climaxes build as one. Like teenagers dry-humping for the very first time. Christ, just like our first time.
He was my one and only. In heart and in body. Not that he will know that—not unless I tell him the truth of my marriage to his brother.
I clamp my eyes shut as reality invades—another glimpse of pain threatening to destroy this moment, to take it all away. I can’t have that. I won’t. I have suffered for so long. Not even my own fingers are able to give me this heady, mind-obliterating pleasure.
There are so many reasons I shouldn’t cave. So many reasons we shouldn’t do this. But I can deal with those later. When I’m alone.
‘Cain.’
It’s the first time his name has left my lips like this, and so much is loaded into that pleasure-filled tone I want to take it back. It gives up so much of me and I fear the exposure. But it only ramps up his tension, his need.
‘I want you.’
He claims my mouth and releases my wrists in one movement. His hands grip my hips as he thrusts me back over the desk and lifts my legs around him. He’s tight against my slick heat, his fingers vibrating as he holds me, his breathing ragged.
‘Say you want me too.’
Oh, God.
His request is strained, gruff. But I can’t do it. I can’t. I do want him—but I don’t.
He stares down into my eyes, our noses almost touching. I can see how much he needs the words. I close my eyes and kiss him instead. He caves for seconds, but he’s no fool.
‘Tell me you want me, Lexi.’
It’s a command now, his entire body still as he waits on me.
‘Say it.’
