I sigh as he cups my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.
He groans when I reach between us, running my fingers over the front of his shorts, feeling the punishment I deserve.
Thick and heavy and pulsing with promise.
Yes, we need this.
We need to lose our minds a little before this ends.
And if it does—when it does—at least let it fade with one more sweet memory.
One last soul-spinning send-off worthy of goodbye.
His greedy hand slides under my shirt and finds bare skin under my bra.
With a dark growl, he pulls with no mercy.
Buttons go flying.
Blouse, ruined.
But I can’t be mad.
I wrap my hands around his neck again and he understands what I want. He feels the intensity as his free hand finds my ass for support a split second before I jump.
Yes, I’m climbing this man like a tree.
My legs pinch his waist, and before I know what’s happening, my ruined shirt is on the floor.
The cool morning air pulses against my skin, and he flicks open my bra clasp.
I’m liquid now.
So clumsy from the lust storming my veins.
Neither of us needs to say another word as he turns, carries me to the pantry, and throws me against the wall.
His hands go to work, tearing off my slacks.
A second later, there’s nothing between us except his shorts and my thin, soaked panties.
“Fuck, duchess,” he rasps against my mouth.
“Now,” I plead.
“Now.” He squeezes my wet pussy.
I almost combust.
Kane’s breath comes muffled, heavy as black smoke pressed into my hair, and I arch into him.
Now, now.
Destroy me, now.
The bed upstairs feels like it’s on another continent.
I can’t bear to wait that long.
