“I—” I try again, voice paper-thin. “I want... you.”
He looks up through the dark fringe of his lashes, and whatever war he’s been fighting with himself vanishes.
“You’ve got me,” he says. “But we do things my way.”
He doesn’t give me time to second-guess his offer. One hand slides up beneath the hem of my shorts, calloused palm rough against my inner thigh. He doesn’t touch where I need him most. No, he skims past it on purpose, the tease intentional. My hips rock forward, chasing contact, and he smirks.
“Desperate little thing,” he murmurs, leaning back to study me. “How long have you been sitting over there, soaked and squirming? Desperately hoping I’d look up from my book and take control of this sexy body you’ve been parading around all day?”
I flush scarlet, the truth from his full lips causing a fresh rush of heat to my cheeks and my core. “Since page thirty-one.”
That earns me a low, wicked laugh. “Good girl.”
I nearly collapse on the spot. The only thing keeping me in place is his steady hand at the waistband of my shorts. He hooks a finger and tugs slowly, but doesn’t remove them, like I’m dying for. Instead, it’s just low enough to expose the soft curve of my hip. Then his palm slides across my stomach, warm and heavy, grounding me while everything else inside spirals out of control.
“I want to hear you say it,” he says. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
The fire pops behind us, but the drumbeat of my heart mutes it in my ears.
“I want your mouth between my thighs,” I whisper, like we’re not alone in this remote cabin, miles from anyone to hear. “I want your hands tracing across my body. Playing with my tight nipples. And I definitely want that thick cock you’re packing, inside me.”
His eyes flash with a dangerous hunger that foretells wicked plans.
He stands in one fluid motion, towering over me like never before. He pulls my body against his. His hand slips into my hair at the nape of my neck, where he tugs roughly to angle my face up to his. His breath washes over my lips, but he doesn’t kiss me.
“You taste as sweet as you smell?” he asks, voice low.
“Stop stalling and find out.”
His hand in my hair tightens, nearly ripping the strands from my head. But the fire that dances in his eyes is worth the sting radiating through my skull.
He guides me backward, walking me toward the other couch, the heat of his body radiating into mine, burning me alive. When the backs of my knees hit the cushions, he shoves me down, his hands never leaving skin.
And when he kneels between my legs and pushes my shorts aside, the first stroke of his tongue sends my head crashing back into the cushion. My fingers claw into the leather as a broken moan rips free.
Finally, the start to everything I’ve been aching for.
TEN
SCOTT
She tastes like the sweetest of sins.
Sweet, slippery, and something I could easily become fucking addicted to. The second my tongue slides between her folds, every reason I had for holding back shatters.
I shouldn’t have touched her; that was my first mistake. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have dropped to my knees and buried my face in her heat. But once her taste hit my tongue and I heard the delirious sounds she makes when I lick her just right, there was no stopping.
God condemn me, because I don’t want to.
She squirms against my mouth, one hand buried in my hair, the other fisted in the leather behind her. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders. Every hitch of her breath is a challenge, every moan permission to keep going. I flatten my tongue, lick from ass to clit, and stop to zero in on her tight bundle of nerves. With a deliberate, slow-moving pressure, her hips jerk.
I should stop here and walk away before we get anydeeper, before I lose myself completely in a situation I don’t belong in.
She’s too young.
My best friend’s daughter.
She can never be mine.
