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“What are you doing to me?” I growled as her fingers curled into my shirt.

“What are you doing?” she accused, pausing long enough to take a breath before we were at each other’s faces again.

Her lips parted for me, and that was her first mistake. But then she parted her legs as I hoisted her up into my arms, scooting her ass onto the counter as half of my shit clattered to the floor around us. My palm came up to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She smelled so fucking good. She tasted so fucking sweet.

My head spun as I tried to get a fucking grip. I needed to pull away, and I needed to stop this, but Birdie wasn’t stopping. She was firing on all cylinders, her fingers digging into my biceps as she tried to pull me closer. I had a mental list of a million reasons this could never happen, but right now, I couldn’t think of one.

“Huck,” she murmured against my lips.

Goddamn her for calling me that. Goddamn her for getting inside my head this way. She was a sorceress. A witch. Some mythical creature sent to destroy me. The levelheadedness I was known for was nonexistent right now.

“You shouldn’t want this, Birdie,” I growled. “Tell me to fucking stop.”

“I can’t.” She pawed at me, anywhere her hands could reach, and it was too goddamned much.

I grabbed her by the hips, hauling her body forward as I pivoted toward her. My entire body shuddered as I dragged the heat of my dick against the seam between her thighs. She tipped her head back, forcing me to chase the sweetness of her lips.

“More,” she begged. “Please, Huck. I want to know what this feels like.”

Her whispered confession froze me, and when my eyes locked onto hers, I realized how fucked up I was for doing this to her. She’d never been treated right. She’d never known love. Her whole life was a desolate landscape of one user after another. At least, that was how I imagined it. But I was selfish, and I needed those details. I needed to know exactly what she meant.

“Tell me,” I commanded, unrelenting in my grip on her body.

She blew out a breath as her eyes found mine. “I want you to be my first. The first man who I choose.”

She could have said anything else, and I would have come to my senses. Anything but that. I didn’t tell her what I knew to be absolute. If I was her first, then I’d be her last. She had summoned the demon in me who refused to share his toys.

Obsession.

I could feel it breeding. Overtaking everything. I hadn’t been able to admit it, but she intoxicated me. What I wanted from her was more than she could ever give. It was everything. Her breath, her words, her fucking mind. Those eyes that plagued my every waking hour and haunted me in my dreams. I was bending, and if I didn’t stop now, she would break me.

Every cell in my brain screamed at me to do the right thing. But her spell was more than I could resist. I couldn’t stop kissing her. Tasting her. Pawing at her.

I flicked open the button of her jeans, and the storm raged on in her eyes when she looked up at me. A challenge. A plea. I only wanted to touch her once. I needed to feel how wet she was for me. And when my palm slipped down over the soaked cotton of her panties, I wasn’t disappointed.

“Christ, Birdie.” My voice was barely audible when my forehead fell against hers. “Just tell me to stop.”

“No.” She tilted her hips up to meet my palm.

My eyes fell shut, and I shuddered when I dragged a finger against the cotton-covered seam of her pussy. An inch south, and I could have been inside her. I could have felt her want soaking me as I slipped past the point of no return. But I needed to hold onto what little self-control I had left.

I stroked her through the material, watching her eyes melt into darkness. Her chest rose and fell as I unbuttoned the work shirt, two hard nipples scraping against the white material of her tank top.

She wasn’t wearing a fucking bra.

I didn’t know how I could have missed it earlier, but now, it was painfully obvious. Birdie made a noise that got caught in her throat as I dug my fingers into the cotton, circling her clit with a friction she desperately needed. My throat worked as I dipped forward, intending only to rub my face against her tits. I did it a few times before it wasn’t enough anymore. My lips paused over the sharp peak where her nipple poked against the fabric. Her fingers curled into my hair, and she cried out as my tongue soaked through the material, dampening it until I could see the pretty pink bud.

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