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I gasped when he ran his finger across my cleavage. It was soft and tickled my flesh until goosebumps rushed up my arms.
“Aiken,” I said, swallowing the rest of whatever it was I was going to say.
He looked up at me with a lifted brow. “Everly?”
“What are you doing?” My words were husky and whispered.
His finger moved up my shoulder before drifting down my arm. I shivered with his touch.
“You smell fucking amazing,” he said, leaning in and running his nose up the side of my neck.
“It’s the soap,” I stupidly responded.
He chuckled; the sound vibrated against my skin before he placed a kiss on my collarbone. “It’s not the soap.”
He kissed up the side of my neck, licking a tiny path beneath my ear before he skimmed his lips across my jaw and captured my mouth.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue pushing in and flicking against mine. I moaned into his mouth, and he answered with a moan of his own.
His palms slid up my sides, bunching the towel. When his hand met the opening, he ran it down the inside of the fold, tickling my skin with his fingertips.
His body pressed into mine, slightly pushing me back until my hips reached the top of Zada’s dresser. He broke the kiss for a breath before moving back in and kissing me even harder than before.
The towel continued to loosen, and when I lifted my arms to wrap them around his neck, it fell to the carpet.
“Fuck,” he growled against my lips.
He filled his large hands with my breasts, and my nipples tingled against his palms. I pulled away from the kiss and threw my head back. Nothing had ever felt as good as his rough palms brushing against my sensitive tips.
He leaned down, running his tongue between my breasts before he sucked a hard peak between his lips.
“Ah God,” I gasped, losing my fingers in his hair.
He sucked, the action tugging at the sensitive spot between my thighs. Moisture gathered, making me feel slick when I pressed my legs together. He grew wilder, his mouth switching from one breast to the other as he lifted me onto the dresser and moved between my thighs.
He pushed into me, the roughness of his jeans brushing against my wet folds and making me shake. He kissed me again, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of my bottom as he ravished my mouth. I slid my hands into his back pockets and pulled him into me, loving the feel of him pushing against me.
He broke the kiss and moved down my neck, sucking and nibbling.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed, needing more friction against me.
He paused, pulling away and looking down at me.
“This is so fucking wrong,” he said, his eyes wide and unsure.
“It’s not,” I said, trying to pull him into me again.
I wanted more, and I trusted him to take care of me. I knew he knew what he was doing and could make me feel good—make me forget everything else.
He captured my cheeks in his palms and forced me to look him in the eye. “It is, Everly. It’s wrong.”
I couldn’t see how. I was of age and single. He was of age, and as far I knew, he was single. There was no reason for us to stop.
“Why are you fighting this?” I asked, reaching under his shirt and running my nails down his ab muscles.
They flexed beneath my touch, and he closed his eyes and bit his lip.
“Because it’s what’s right.”
