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An animal heat strums my nerves, leaving me so on edge I can’t think.
But what is he doing here?
Did he really come back for me? To break the agreement?
I rake my nails softly over his neck, loving how he shudders and groans.
In Vegas, I couldn’t resist him. But I’ve never wanted him between my legs like I do now.
“Chris, why are you here? Didn’t we decide to keep our space?” I try to sound reasonable without letting on how thrilled I am.
“Bad decisions. I decided I need my tongue on your clit, woman. Need to feel you clenching on my dick again, everything I had on our trip and then some.” He stops, shoving his hand in my jeans, my panties.
I’m melting before his fingers even find my clit.
Before his insistent strokes become impossible to ignore.
“But this is—oh!” He pushes two rough fingers inside me, cutting me off.
“Wrong? Yeah, don’t give me that shit, princess. You know what feels right. Tell me you give a damn about technicalities when I’ve got my fingers in your pussy right over the sweet spot.”
And he reminds me just how sweet it is, curling one knuckle against my inner wall.
Holy hell.
This man only needs two fingers todestroy me.
I shake my head, hot lust overpowering a legion ofwrong, crafting excuses I need to make this right.
“Chris, we—we shouldn’t,” I stammer out. “We can’t. I want this just as bad as you but we...we have to get over it. Don’t we?”
His eyes narrow, flashing angry evergreen.
“Get over fucking what?” he growls, anchoring his fingers deep inside me again, focusing all his teasing on that spot.
Everything unravels.
I’m breathless.
I’m helpless.
I’m gone.
Completely and utterly conquered, lost in his scent, the rays in his eyes that say,it was over the minute I stepped in this room.
Ready or not, we’re fucking tonight, princess.
He never drags his eyes away as his fingers work, pumping in and out, forcing a gasp from a mouth I can’t shut and a syrupy moan so thick I can taste it.
“There’s my girl,” he whispers, stunning me quiet with pleasure and hot kisses before he starts working off my clothes.
I don’t fight him.
There’s no resisting this when I don’t want to.
I just wonder if I’m still dreaming.
It’s surreal having him here, in my own room, right under our parents’ noses.
