I stand and kick off my sweatpants. When the cooler air hits me, so does reality.
I don’t have a condom.
No need for them when you’re not in a relationship and don’t do casual flings, either.
“Fuck,” I hiss and run a hand over my face in frustration.
“Problem, Chief?” Tessa looks up at me from under her full lashes.
“Condoms. Don’t have any.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “I’m on the pill. I haven’t been with anyone…in a while.”
“Tessa,” I growl. The idea of taking her bare stirs something primal inside of me. “I get tested every six months. Part of the job. Haven’t been with anyone in a while either.”
“Then I’m really going to need you to fuck me, Nathan.”
Normally, I have an iron will. One that’s seen me through some shit. I’ve trained for emergencies, handled mass casualty events, chased down a criminal or two, but I can’t say no to this woman, to my pretty little menace.
“That’s not just the alcohol talking, is it?”
“One glass hasn’t clouded my judgement," she confirms, her voice deep and husky.
“Well, okay then.”
I guide her onto her back again.
Reaching between us, I stroke myself and run the tip of my cock between her legs. She forces me closer with her legs wrapped around my waist. I try to take my time, slowly sinking inside of her, but she’s so fucking tight that I’m afraid I’ll hurt her.
Tessa shivers under me, every tiny movement a dagger to my willpower. I don’t stop. Ican’tstop. Not when she’s burning through me like this.
I kiss her hard, and she gasps against my mouth—surprised, maybe, but not afraid. Her fingers dig into my shoulders like she needs to hold on.
I hear her soft gasp, a faint hitch, and when I pull back, her pupils are blown wide. There’s the faintest tremor in her voice as she whispers my name.
Then I realize it.
The tension in her muscles. The wince I just saw. The stray tears that fall from the corner of her eyes.
She squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to look at me.
I let my forehead rest against hers, swallowing down the haze of desire that makes my chest burn. She’s warm and soft, and every instinct in me tells me I should stop, move away, breathe. But I can’t.
“Tessa, talk to me,” my voice cracks.
She tosses her head side to side.
“Tessa, look at me,” I say, softer this time. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever done this before?”
Her eyes open. “No. Not really.” A pause. “Not like this.”
For a moment, all I can do is stare at her. That single confession slams into me like a freight train. My chest tightens.My pulse spikes. Every possessive instinct I’ve buried for years claws its way to the surface.
Christ.
She’s mine.
The thought hits fast and primal. I don’t want to be the first man to touch her. I want to be theonlyone. The last one. Even if I don’t deserve it. Haven’t earned it.
