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A smile curves his lips, the sight of it taking my breath away. “I’d like having you this way even more if you were naked.”
Oh my God. I should tell him to go to hell right here, right now. We are so not doing this. Not doing it. Not doing it...
He slips his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing my stomach, and I close my eyes, all protests, all thought forgotten. All I can do is lose myself in the sensation of his touch, the way his fingers curl around the waistband of my jeans before they move for the button. He undoes it easily, sliding down the zipper, brushing against the front of mypanties, and I open my eyes, press my lips together to keep from crying out.
The jerk knows I’m holding back. His smile turns arrogant as he pushes first one side of my jeans down over my hips, then the other. He’s surprisingly agile with one hand, considering he’s still holding my wrists against the wall.
Not like I’d move them anyway. I sort of like being so open and vulnerable to his perusal. His touch.
God, why though? Why should I leave myself so open and vulnerable? Being with him makes me feel free. It’s exhilarating in the most scary, forbidden way.
He’s temptation personified and for once in my life, I want to completely give in to sin and not worry about the consequences.
“What are we doing?” I ask, my voice low. I need an answer. I need to hear that he’s just as lost to this as I am. If he says the wrong thing, I should put an end to it right now. Kick him out and hope like crazy I never see him again.
Liar. You’d be devastated if you never saw him again.
He lifts his head, slipping a finger beneath the thin elastic waistband of my panties, touching the bare, sensitive skin of my stomach. I hold my breath, waiting for him to slip that finger lower, wanting it between my legs. “Do you have to ask?”
Smug bastard.“I don’t like you,” I remind him. Reminding myself, too. I really don’t. He’s trying to buy up my family’s property so he can turn it for profit, and we’ll be left with nothing but some cash in the bank, our legacy gone. I need to focus on that. How he wants to end our presence, how he wants to squash my secret dream.
But all I can do is savor his touch and want more. More, more, more.
“Good,” he grunts. “I don’t really like you either.” All thewhile that finger trails lower, teasing down the front of me until he pulls completely away and out from beneath my underwear.
I feel the loss keenly, the bastard. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” He grins, leaning in to press his mouth to mine as he lets go of my wrists. “Don’t touch you? Don’t stop? Which is it, Marina?” He whispers the questions across my lips, his own hot and delicious. I’m torn. I don’t know what to do. I want him to stop. But then again, I want him to keep going. I want to know what it feels like to be with Gage.
Feel him move inside me. Know what he looks like when he comes.
Closing my eyes, I fight my inner battle. And surrender myself to him.
Gage
She’s a gorgeous sight, pressed against the wall, her jeans hanging halfway down her thighs, wearing the most innocent yet sexy panties I think I’ve ever seen. They’re white cotton, trimmed in delicate lace, the fabric so sheer I can see her pubic hair. A tiny white bow dots the center of the waistband, and the same silky ribbon ties around her hips, bows dotting either side of her.
I want to undo those bows and watch her panties fall away from her body. Then I want to get down on my knees and bury my mouth between her legs. I know she’ll taste hot and wild. I wonder how many flicks of my tongue will make her come.
Fuck, I’m beyond eager to find out.
“Come here.” She grabs hold of my tie—I think she likes doing that—and pulls me to her, my mouth falling onto hers. She opens for me easily, her tongue doing a wicked dance against mine that has me so hard I’m afraid I’ll bust through the fabric of my pants, I want her so damn bad.
I guess the kiss is her answer to my earlier question. I know I shouldn’t want this either. That if I think about it too much, I’ll put a stop to the craziness. Because this is crazy, without a doubt. She’s too prickly for me.
But the prickliness has all but evaporated, leaving a passionate, responsive woman in my arms. This woman shoving at my jacket until I shake it off blows my mind. What the fuck are we doing? We’re going to have sex in the kitchen of her bakery. I’ve known her for only a couple of days. I’m trying to buy out her family because they’re desperate for money.
And I’m trying to get in her pants because I’m desperate to be inside her.
She seems just as desperate, furiously attacking the buttons of my shirt before she yanks on my tie yet again, loosening it around my neck. I shrug out of it all then reach for her, pushing her shirt up and over her head, my mouth going dry when I see her breasts barely covered in the white, lacy bra.
Rosy pink nipples press against the lace as if they’re yearning to be free. I reach for her, flicking open the front clasp. The cups spring away, revealing her full, perfect breasts, and I cup them in my palms, brushing the tips with my thumbs.
“Oh God.” She thumps the back of her head against the wall, her eyes sliding closed as I continue to caress her breasts. I don’t want to stop touching her, watching her, enjoying her. She’s so damn responsive and I want to savor her, but my body—specifically my overeager and greedy-as-hell cock—has other plans.
Unable to resist, I lean in and suck a plump nipple into my mouth, lashing at it with my tongue, sucking hard. She threads her fingers into my hair, holding me to her, and I lift my eyes, watching her. My skin tightens in response at her expression. How lost she seems, how overwhelmed.
Fuck, I can’t wait to see her pretty face when she comes.
