The only reasonI’m not ready to die right now is that when I go, I don’t want to go before the woman I’ve sworn to myself that I’ll protect through this.
But there’s no small part of me ready to die of utter bliss at the feel of her hands on my bare skin. Her breath warm through my shirt. The press of her lips against my chest.
The real Aspen is better than any fantasy I’ve had about her the past year.
Her touch. Her scent. The way she’s arching into me as she lifts her head to press a kiss to my bare neck.
My dick aches, trapped in my pants. My hands tremble with the desperate need to touch her bare skin. I want to taste her—her body, her mouth, her pussy—everywhere.
“Your nose is warm,” I rasp.
“You fixed it.” She presses another kiss just below my jawline and hooks one leg around my hips.
They buck in response.
It’s primal instinct. “Fuck, Aspen, I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Being with me? Or our friendship?”
“Yes.”
“You are the only man I’ve ever known who would say something like that to me.”
My heart swells and protective instincts take over. Who’s been in her life who didn’t value her enough to not want to fuck up what they had?
“You need better friends.”
“I think I’ve finally found them.” Her lips find my ear, and my cock grows another inch.
It’s about to get strangled inside my pants.
“I want you, Cash,” she whispers. “Please don’t make me beg.”
The last shreds of my honor evaporate.
It doesn’t matter that I shouldn’t want her back. It doesn’t matter that there are ten thousand reasons this is a terrible idea.
She wants me, and I won’t make her beg.
I claim her mouth with a rough growl, rolling her onto her back and closer to the dancing fire. Her fingers clench my hair as she kisses me back, hard and deep, our tongues clashing, breath mingling, her legs wrapping around my hips.
This.
Heaven help me,this.
She’s sweet and tart and rich all at once, her body so soft under mine, her lips and tongue and mouth eager and bold.
I’m never coming back from this.
Just kissing her is making everything in my world shift.
I don’t feel like a movie star. I’m not an aging former boy bander.
I’m a man who will do anything to make this woman happy. To give her pleasure. To take away her pain, her fears, her insecurities.
She glides her hands down my chest and pops the button on my pants.
I groan in relief as she slides the zipper down, then fists me in both hands and strokes me.
