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I back up until I hit the counter. “And I’m keeping it.”
He sighs, letting his shoulders sag. “I didn’t want to do this, but…”
Quicker than I can move, he darts around the table toward me. He flattens his hands on the counter on either side of my body and rests his hips against mine.
Dipping his head, he runs his nose along my jaw. “Are you going to give me the food?”
“Are you trying to seduce me into giving you it?” I gasp at the feel of his tongue flicking against the tender spot below my ear.
“I’m not trying to seduce you, Liv. I am seducing you. I don’t try.” His lips brush along my neck, just below my jawline.
My eyes flutter shut, and he settles one of his hands on my hip. His fingers edge beneath my sweater and my shirt, tantalizingly rubbing against my skin, and I tilt my head back. He continues his exploration of my neck with his mouth, humming against my skin, whispering into my neck, pushing his hardening cock into my thigh…
“Thanks,” he says, grabbing the bag and stepping away.
Oh holy hell fucking no!
“Going somewhere?” I snap out, discarding my burger to the side and grabbing his sweater. I tug, spinning him.
Amusement and desire battle in his eyes. “To the sofa. To eat.”
“Oh, no, you’re not. You’re going to come over here and finish what you just started, Tyler Stone.”
He sets the bag on the kitchen table and studies me. “Am I adding demanding to my list of adjectives for you?”
“Go ahead.”
A smirk teases his lips. “Okay, my demanding bitch.” He comes back to me and stands in front of me without touching me. “What exactly am I supposed to be finishing?”
I look up at him. “Don’t play dumb with me. You can’t come over here, turn me the fuck on, then walk away like my panties aren’t soaked.”
“They’re soaked, hmm? Just from that?” He traps me with his hands again. His breath fans across my mouth, and I lick my lips.
“Why don’t you find out?” I challenge, his eyes sparking immediately.
“In that case…” He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and tugs them down over my ass.
I gasp as he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me up onto the counter. Perching on the edge, I watch as he pulls the jeans from my legs and dumps them on the floor. He runs his hands back up my legs, spreading his fingers wide when he reaches my thighs, and pauses just before his thumbs touch my thong.
“I think I will.”
Tyler nudges the material of my thong to the side in one jerky movement. His thumb brushes along my pussy, circling my clit quickly. I gasp and he groans.
“Good girl.” His voice rumbles through me as he lifts his hands and eases my sweater over my head.
My shirt quickly follows, and as he steps closer, he cups both of my breasts. He kisses along the cup line of my bra and up. Deftly, he undoes my bra and it falls down my arms.
“I can’t decide if I want to tie your hands or have them in my hair,” he whispers in my ear, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and fingers.
I wrap my legs around his waist and tug on his sweater and shirt. He releases my breasts long enough to pull them over his head then pulls my body against his. The movement is hard, and my lips part at the exact time he touches his own lips to them.
Tyler’s tongue sweeps through my mouth in familiar, easy movements, desperate movements, needing movements. His fingers slide up my thighs, probing, squeezing, and they leave me only long enough to undo his belt and shove his jeans down.
He grabs my wrists and flattens my hands behind me so I’m leaning back and slowly rubs the end of his cock against my wetness.
“Please,” I whisper.
It’s been two days. Two long, seemingly torturous days since I’ve had him inside me, and I’ve never been so desperate for him. For that fleeting feeling of completeness and rightness.
