Not when she’s kissing me like this, like she wants it just as badly, too.
I groan into her mouth when her hands caress my chest.
“Fuck,” I whisper, breaking the kiss for half a breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs back, dragging her nails down my chest. “You talk too much.”
I laugh against her lips, but it dies quickly. My hand finds her hips, gripping them tightly, and positioning her until she’s seated on my lap, anchoring her to me. I roll my hips into hers, and her gasp punches the air from my lungs.
Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, tugging slightly. Her thighs squeeze tighter around my hips, and fuck, I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shorts. Every little shift of her body against mine has me spiraling, unraveling, barely hanging onto the thread of control I’ve been faking since she walked into my life.
“Still think this is just practice?” I whisper against her lips, brushing my nose along hers before diving in again, deeper this time.
She pulls back slightly, her chest rising and falling as she glares at me with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. “You think you’re slick, huh?”
I grin. “No, I know I am.”
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t move off my lap.
I trail soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck, until I feel her shiver.
“You always kiss your fake wife like this, Hayes?” she asks, breathless, sarcasm cracked just enough to reveal the nerves underneath.
I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. “Only the one I’ve been dreaming about.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
“Dollface…” I whisper, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “If this is practice, I’m fucked.”
She exhales shakily, her fingers dragging through my hair now, gentler than before. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet you’re still on my lap.”
She attempts to glare again, but I kiss the corner of her mouth, then the other side, and finally down the length of her throat, where her pulse pounds erratically.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur against her skin.
“No, I’m not,” she lies terribly.
My hand slips beneath her shirt, my fingertips grazing her warm lower back. She flinches slightly, her breath catching, and I kiss the corner of her mouth again, this time softer, as if I’m telling her I’ll wait... even though every muscle in my body is screaming for more.
“Say the word,” I whisper against her lips, “and I’ll stop.”
She stares at me with an unreadable expression, but her eyes say more than she can. She’s fighting the urge to let go, but she’s holding on to that piece of thread like she’s been hurt before.
She has to know that I won’t hurt her, right?
She whispers, “Just… shut up and kiss me again.”
Her lips are back on mine before I can catch my breath. And honestly? I don’t want to. I can stop breathing right now and die a happy man.
We’re still tangled on the couch, her body straddling mine like it was made for this, for me.
Her lips brush against mine again—teasing, tasting—and I chase her mouth with a groan that escapes from my chest.
“Dollface,” I breathe, my hands gripping her hips. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”
She pulls back just enough to give me a look—that signature, unimpressed, devastating smirk.
