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“You feel like a fucking dream,” he rasped, lips drifting to my jaw and down to my throat.
A growing pressure began to pulse between my legs. I rolled my hips, desperately needing to ease the ache mounting inside me. The clawing need. It felt so incredibly good, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt pleasure—pure joy or happiness. The dopamine drugged me, erasing all thoughts of self-preservation or strategy.
If this was my punishment, I’d happily accept.
None of it made sense, but I didn’t care. I just wanted more.
When he lifted my thin pajama top and his mouth closed over my breast, I thought the world might stop turning. It would have explained the dizziness. I felt like I was free-falling with no clue which way was up or down.
How far was he planning to take this? Did I care?
No. Not really. He was my fiancé, right? And it felt so good. Wasn’t I allowed to feel good for a change?
Conner rested beside me, one large hand drifting down my ribs, over my hip, then to my thigh where he coaxed my legs apart. I didn’t fight him, but my heart began to jackhammer in my chest. A part of my body that no man had ever touched was now open to him, only shielded by a thin layer of cotton fabric.
His gaze remained locked on where he touched me, his hand slowly caressing the inside of my thigh higher and higher but stopping just short of where my body screamed for his touch.
“Tell me this is mine.” He slid one finger beneath the elastic edge of my panties. “Tell me no other man has touched you here.” His voice was jagged as a cliff’s edge, raw and unguarded. When his eyes finally drifted back to mine, I gasped at the violent need staring back at me. Like the last vestiges of his humanity clung by a thread.
Mesmerized by my effect on him, I nodded. “No other … only you,” I whispered.
Fear suddenly spiked my veins with an icy-cold current.
I didn’t worry that he’d hurt me—not physically, anyway. It was my heart that concerned me. How could I possibly keep my emotions out of the mix when Conner’s presence was so consuming? Nothing with him was simple, least of all sex.
My lips parted on an objection, but his hand came to rest over my mouth, his head slowly turning side to side as a devious smile perched on his lips.
Then my brain short-circuited when his other hand slid fully beneath my panties and cupped my sex. I didn’t remember my own name, let alone what I’d planned to say. Not when one long, scalding finger dipped inside me, then spread my arousal up to my clit and back down. I’d already been writhing with more electric need than I’d ever felt before. The addition of his touch nearly made me see stars.
One hand still pressed to my mouth, Conner fingered me with lavish, seductive strokes, building and teasing my restless flesh. My body arched and pleaded with his movements. When my chest pressed outward, lifting my back clean off the bed, he used his teeth to graze over my nipple. The sting sent an electric pulse directly to my clit like a flame devouring a fuse. When the spark reached my core, my body ignited with blinding pleasure.
Just as the liquid elation devoured me, Conner lifted his hand away from my mouth at precisely the right moment to allow a primal cry of release to burst past my lips. It was as though the energy inside me was too great to contain and had escaped in the form of sound, and Conner had set it all into motion, knowing exactly what would happen.
The cry echoed in my head, drowning out even my ragged breaths and racing heart.
Realization and panic chased away the remnants of my orgasm like angry dogs scenting a hare.
“What have you done?” I breathed, my eyes going wide.
Sante’s room was right next to mine. Was there any chance he could have slept through my cry?
I held perfectly still, my lungs not even daring to draw breath.
A door squeaked in the hall. Sante.
I launched into motion, shoving Conner off me. “You have to get out. You have toleave!” I hissed, succumbing to the panic clawing at my insides. My eyes darted wildly to my closed bedroom door before cutting back to Conner when I realized he was refusing to budge.
“Promise me you won’t go tomorrow,” he demanded, no trace of remorse.
Had I not been so overwhelmed with distress about Sante hearing me, I would have been furious, but my thoughts were too scattered for the emotion to take purchase.
“You need to go,now!” I slammed my hands against his chest, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“Em? Was that you?” Sante called softly through the door.
My chest hitched on a sob, frustration like a vise tight around my chest. “Okay, you win. I won’t go, just leave.Please.” This time, he allowed me to shove him toward the window, his brows knitting tight in growing confusion as though he meant to manipulate me but hadn’t counted on such a visceral reaction on my part.
I didn’t care what he thought. I just had to get him out of my house.
