“Actually.” I stand. “I hope it doesn’t.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I hope the fucking storm never breaks.” I cross the fucking room toward her slowly. “I hope I stay here with you. Forever.”
Her fucking breath catches. The book slides from her hands onto the fucking cushions.
“Gregory,” she says.
I reach her. “I’ve been losing control since you first walked through my door.”
My hand reaches around her fucking waist, hauling her upright until her curves crash against my chest. The gasp that escapes her lips is pure fucking oxygen, fanning the flames of my blood.
“Tell me to stop,” I command, my voice rough gravel. It’s her final chance to avoid being consumed. “Say it. Now.”
Instead, her eyes darken to molten chocolate. “Don’t youdarestop,” she breathes.
My thumb sweeps her fucking cheekbone roughly, and she arches hungrily into the touch. When my palm cups her jaw and I tilt her face up, a shudder races through her.
“Gregory.” My name is a plea on her lips.
I devour it with my mouth.
This isn’t a kiss. It’s fucking annihilation. Four days of building tension detonate as my tongue plunders past her lips, tasting coffee, steak, and the sweet salt that isher.
She whimpers, fingers twisting in my sweater, and I fucking swallow the sound greedily.
My hand fists in her hair, angling her head for deeper conquest with my tongue while the other drags her hips flush against mine. The hard ridge of my fucking cock grinds against her belly, drawing a ragged moan from her that vibrates through my very being.
When I break away, it feels like tearing flesh.
“Bed,” I rasp against her swollen mouth.
Her laugh is breathless, desperate. “We don’t have a bed--”
My gaze sweeps the firelit room. I move like a man possessed, yanking blankets from the sectional. Wool, cashmere, faux fur, I don’t give a fuck, whatever is available, I grab it. And then I build a nest by the hearth, layering it thick enough to cushion the ravaging that is to come.
When I turn back, she stands bathed in firelight, covered in my hoodie, her eyes wide and dark with need. Every fucking cell in my body ignites when I see those fucking eyes.
I stalk toward her, my steps feral. I’ve become an animal.
“Come. Here.” Not a request.
She obeys, trembling as I reach for the zipper of the hoodie. The slide of metal echoes in the silence. I strip it from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. The thermal shirt follows. A slow reveal of smooth, sun-kissed skin that glows like amber in the firelight. When my knuckles brush the swell of her breasts above her bra, she shivers. Just fucking shivers.
Her hands suddenly fly to the rolled waistband of her sweatpants, and panic flashes in her eyes. “Gregory, wait--”
I merely grunt in reply, and reach for that fucking waistband myself.
“I smell!” she protests. “Sure, I took a quick bath yesterday, but--”
I silence her by sliding her back against the sectional, until she’s sitting. Then I pin her wrists above her head against the leather couch, and cage her body with mine.
Her gasp is so fucking sharp, so fucking delicious, I could cum right there.
I lower my head to the soft hollow of her arm andinhale.It’s a deep, fucking primal inhale. I smell the musky sweetness of her skin and exertion.
Perfection.
