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The graze of his finger touches my chin, and slowly, he lifts it until our eyes meet. “We can’t be together, Amelia.”
“I know,” I choke, holding my breath until my lips part slightly. “Just tell me to go.”
His gaze shifts, a look of torment as his eyebrows pull together, deepening the crease.
“I can’t do that…”
“Why?” I beg of him. “Why can’t you tell me to go?”
Slowly, his head tilts upward, the piercing gaze which has tormented me in my sleep and invaded my thoughts in my waking moments, swinging like a wrecking ball ready to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to ignore.
“Because it’s you, Amelia,” he whispers so delicately. “You’re the one I can’t stop thinking about.”
Eighteen
Will
Her mouth crashes onto mine, the warm sensation spreading throughout my body at the taste of her strawberry-flavored lips.
My hands wrap around her thighs, pulling her up while carrying her toward my bedroom. The walk is only a few feet away, yet the distance, while short, feels like miles long. Our kisses deepen, soft moans escaping her beautiful lips as we come up for air, breathless with our attention anchored on each other as if our lives depend on it.
Using my foot, I push the door open to the dimly lit bedroom. Outside, darkness has fallen, and on this cold night, frost has blanketed the large windows, the normally white-gold moon hiding behind the pillows of clouds.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I pull away, though still carrying her. Her gaze falls upon my lips, hungry and impatient while her chest rises and falls. I beg myself to think clearly, ignore whatever it is consuming me right now, and feed my body this drug it so desperately craves.
I open my mouth to speak but shut it again, conflicted by all the emotions fighting for attention at this moment.
“Tell me to stop.”
Her lips crash back onto mine with urgency, almost as if she won’t allow me to step away. Slowly, I place her on the bed as she sits on the edge, looking up at me, her emerald-green eyes watching me so innocently that I know this won’t end well.
For her.
For me.
For our family.
But even with those thoughts, I’m distracted as she toys with my belt, her hair sliding across her shoulder, exposing her neck. Her skin, so delicate and pure, taunts me, making it hard for me to control my urges.
With the pull of my belt, my pants fall. I unbutton my shirt, leaving me only in my silk boxers. I climb on top, kissing her deeply before insisting she straddle me. Trailing my finger down her chest, she begins to undo the buttons of the maroon-colored dress she is wearing, the soft fabric falling past her shoulders, exposing her white-lace bra and panties.
Biting down, I use every muscle I have to control my fucking dick from blowing right here, right now. Every forbidden fantasy of her, all of them have become a mind fuck over the last two weeks, is happening right in front of me.
It’s a blessing and a curse, the fruit and its temptation, and in this moment, my throat begins to thicken as I pinch my eyebrows together, losing all hope of resisting the one person I’m not supposed to touch.
But as our gaze locks, the silence speaks loudly between our shallow breaths, and she removes her bra—her beautiful tits beg me to devour them. My eyes widen at the sight. They’re fucking perfect. Just as I had imagined them—round, supple, perfectly positioned light pink nipples, fully erect and expressing how turned on she is right now.
I can’t hold back, running my fingers along the curves, taking them in my mouth as she moans so carelessly, arching her back. My tongue rolls around her nipple, sucking gently with a small tug of my teeth. I knead them between my fingers, unable to control my urge to ravage her, begging her silently to let me have her completely and hoping she doesn’t get scared, pulling away at a moment’s notice.
Yet her moans deepen, pleasure and pain all rolled into one. Every sound, so beautiful, warns me she’s close when we haven’t even begun.
“If you need me to stop.”
She shakes her head, quick and panicked. No words are said until she shuffles off, removing her panties and letting them fall to the ground.
Fuck.
I stare between her legs, admiring the landing strip and well-manicured bikini wax. God, how could a pussy be so fucking perfect? This isn’t the first one I’ve seen, I’ve lost count. So, why in the hell does this feel all brand new?
