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No. No. God, I mustn’t want that.
I should try and stop him. Do something more than give in—anythingbut this.
We get married in three days, but we won’t be real.
I’ll be nothing more than a temporary wife, so I can’t want this man the way I do. I know I mustn’t for my own sanity, so why is my body acting like this?
Why can’t I remember all the promises I made myself when it comes to this man?
I hate him. I’msupposedto hate him.
But, as he continues to devour my mouth, I kiss him back with the same intensity—shamefully not even trying to resist—and it’s evident from the delicious fire burning through my body that I want him too.
I think of nothing but my desire for him as he kisses his way down my body, then pauses to pull down my top and feast on my nipples. Sweet pleasure pulls passionate moans from my lips and sends jolts of wild pleasure to my pussy.
I feel like I’m flying on the edge of each sensation.
He sucks my breasts until they’re both aching and sore, then he pulls my top off and takes his shirt off too.
With that crazy, wicked smile I’ve grown accustomed to, he crouches down and pulls my skirt and panties down my legs, leaving me naked and vulnerable to him again.
The way he looks at me is unreal. How could he be looking at me the same way he did when he first saw me naked? Like this is the first time all over again, and I’m a work of art he’s admiring.
“You’re beautiful and mine.” He runs his hands over my body and kisses the skin of my mound, licking my slick opening. That’s when I remember the door is wide open.
Most of the regular staff would have left by now, but there are contractors around every part of the building until late.
“Knight, the door.” The arousal is so thick in my throat I can hardly get the words out. “Someone could see us.”
“And they better pray they keep walking. I’ll kill any man who looks at you.” The possession in his tone scares me, and I think he means every word he says. “I’m not stopping. I want you.”
Those words again—I want you.
Every time I hear him say them, they do something to me I can’t describe, but feel. Because I want him too.
I’ve tried not to. Lord knows I have, but every time, I fail miserably.
Knight comes back to kiss me, but this time, he grips my hip with one hand and slips his fingers back into my panties, so he can circle my clit.
Convulsive waves grip me at his touch, and I throw my head back. “Oh my God!”
Knight smiles down at me, loving to watch me come undone. “Goddess, you were simply made for corruption.” He rubs my clit harder, and I feel the tug of an orgasm pulling at my insides. “You want more, don’t you?”
“Knight…”
“Tell me you want more. I can feel you do.” There’s a sudden roughness to his touch, demanding I answer with nothing but the truth.
“Yessss…give me more,” I cry out, the words feeling freeing.
“Yes, mon cherie. Let’s try out some more of those fantasies of yours.”
With that, he goes right back to my pussy, forces my thighs wider apart, and pushes his tongue deep inside me.
His tongue licking at my walls feels so, so damn good, I drive my heels into the floor in an attempt to control the surge of pleasure threatening to devour me. But that does absolutely nothing. The continuous onslaught of wild pleasure rips into me with fire and unquenchable heat.
All from him. My beautiful French devil.
My stories and heroes have nothing on this man. He’s something else entirely. Knight Grayson is the kind of guy who’s the inspiration for all stories. The villain and the hero rolled into one.
