Ohfuck.
“Christ, Daisy,” I growl, my fingers digging into her hips as she rocks against me. “You need to stop that.”
“Make me.” Her breath is warm against my lips, and then she moves against me again, making the ancient wood beneath us creak in tandem with my ragged breathing.
My head falls back against the wood with a hollowthunk, my grip tightening in a way that is neither gentlemanly nor appropriate nor remotely civilized.
“This is how you choose to break me?” My voice is hoarse, barely a breath. “In a bloody church?”
Her fingers slide into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as she whispers against my mouth, “Worth it.”
I can’t come here. Even through this fog of desperate want, even with her soft skin enveloping me, even with her scent making me lightheaded—I know that much.
And it’ll bloody well happen if I don’t stop this. My control is paper-thin. The taste of her on my tongue, the soft sounds she’s making in her throat, the way her dress is riding up her thighs—a woman like her can’t do this to a man in my state without inevitable consequences.
My cock groans for release. The wood of the pew creaks beneath us.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her body shuddering, her breath hot against my skin as she rolls her hips again, rubbing my cock over the damp heat of her panties.
I want to feel her. Want to slide my hand between her thighs, want to push past the soaked lace and sink my fingers into her. Because Iknowshe’s fucking soaked for me.
“Daisy, don’t—god, stop, I haven’t—”
I can’t finish the thought. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but feel her rocking against my steel-hard cock.
“Edward.” Her breath ghosts against my mouth, and it breaks something inside me.
Oh fuck.
God, this feels . . . Everything.
I can’t.
Not here.
Not like this.
But I’m not strong enough to stop.
Not when she’s making those little, breathless sounds in her throat. Not when I canfeelher trembling against me, clutching at my shoulders like sheneedsme.
I’m too far gone.
Too desperate.
I’m going to come in my trousers like a teenage boy, with Daisy Wilson writhing in my lap.
The realization slams into me like a freight train, and I try—fucking try—to hold on, to fight the oncoming devastation, to keep from completely humiliating myself, but I’m already past the point of no return.
My hands clamp down on her hips, fingers digging in, and I press my forehead against her shoulder as my release rips through me.
The creak of the door at the back of the church cuts through the air like a knife.
We both freeze, eyes locking in shared panic.
My jaw is still slack, my breath still coming in rough pants, my body still shuddering with aftershocks—
And now someone’s about to find me with cum-soaked underwear and my little sister’s best friend in my lap.
