“We shouldn’t¸ Race,” he told me, freezing.
“I don’t care what we should do. Don’t you want me?” I murmured against his skin.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I do, but you’re going to regret it in the morning,” he said, giving me another chance to back out.
There was no way in hell I’d say no.
I wanted Morgan DeLuca.
After a week of fantasizing about nothing but him, I had my chance to make it a reality.
“I wanted you the moment I saw that big guy standing in the doorway, looking like he was ready to kick someone’s ass. I wanted to grab your muscles”—I held his forearm, squeezing it gently—“taste your skin, and feel you inside me.”
“I wanted you before I knew your name,” he said, laying me down on the bed.
I looped my arms around his neck, bringing his face closer. “Kiss me, then,” I murmured, moving my mouth toward his.
Hell yes.
His nostrils flared as his breath grew harsh. He crushed his lips to mine, breathing me in as he kissed me. His mouth was softer than I’d fantasized, with the perfect amount of tongue and lip.
I moaned into his mouth, feeling my body tingle all over. It was so cliché, but it happened.
I ran my fingers through his hair, dragging my nails against his scalp. He shuddered, moaning and driving forward into my mouth. His tongue swept inside, tasting me as I wrapped my legs around his back, holding him against my body.
He was hard. Rock hard, and I sighed as he pressed against me. I ground my pussy against his length, loving the friction as our bodies rubbed together.
“Don’t,” he murmured into my mouth.
I smiled against his lips. “Why?”
“I want you so badly. I don’t want this to be over before it starts,” he growled.
I groaned, pretending to be sad, but his words made me wet. Morgan DeLuca was kissing me. He was in my bed, on top of me, and he wanted me. I unhooked my legs from his body, instantly missing the contact.
His hand slid down my body, finding my breast. As his finger swept across my hardened nipple, I felt the air leave my body. He inhaled it, bringing it into him.
“Morgan,” I moaned with the last ounce of breath I had.
He grunted as his hand skated across my torso. Then it found the edge of my shirt and slipped underneath. Tiny sparks skidded across my skin as his hand swept over my stomach on a collision course with my breasts.
My belly flipped when his finger stroked the edge of my bra. The warmth of his palm didn’t stop the goose bumps that erupted across my skin.
When the front closure to my bra popped, my breasts sprang free.
“Mm,” he murmured as he cupped my breast, sweeping a thumb across my nipple. “So fucking soft.”
As his hand vanished, I whimpered, missing the contact. Had he changed his mind? My eyes popped open as his lips left mine. My body stiffened as my stomach flipped and he sat back, resting his body on his heels.
He stared down at me with a sly grin. “Sit up,” he whispered. “I need you naked.”
Relief flooded my body. The butterflies that had been floating around my insides transformed. I sat up and started to lift my shirt.
He placed his hands over mine, stopping me. “No,” he said, peering down at me. “I want to undress you.”
My damn system went into overdrive. Morgan DeLuca wanted to undress me. He wanted to fuck me. If I’d been sober, I might have thought about the repercussions, but the alcohol helped me relax enough to share my true feelings.
I could no longer deny that I wanted him. I couldn’t deny him any longer. I had hoped for a kiss when the night ended, but I was getting so much more.
