Or yes in a bit. And now—he’s aboveme. Panting. Shirtless. Dewy with sweat. His body caging mine, heat radiating off him. His hard cock pressing into me. Despite all my training, my skill, my experience—He can still best me. Still own this moment. Make me feel like I’m seconds away from breaking.
He could kill me right now. But he’d rather fuck me. It’s a new feeling. For the first time in too long, I feel powerful. Not because I’m obeying orders. Not because of my ass or my looks, but because of what I can do.
I exhale, pulse hammering. “Don’t kiss me back.”
His eyes darken. “I don’t think you’re in a place to make rules,” he growls.
“Fine. I get one.”
A slow smirk. “One.”
“If your hands move or you stop kissing my mouth, the kiss ends.”
Angelo studies my face, his lips parting. His chest rises, falls.
Then he nods once. “I agree.”
I shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong. It’ll break plenty of rules. It’ll compromise my morals. And yet, I stretch up, rubbing my nose over his lips.
“I need you to not lie to me, Angelo.”
His lips graze mine, the barest brush of warmth. “If you end the kiss, I’ll let you.”
His breath tickles against my skin. “You kiss me. You stop when you decide to.”
I shudder. My nipples tighten, my body burning—not from the workout, but from him. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. He groans. A low, breathy moan, like he can already taste me.
I press my lips to his. His bottom lip is soft, warm. Safe. I suck gently, then part my lips, my breath catching when he does the same.
I hesitate. Then I taste him. The barest slide of my tongue over his. A deep groan rumbles through him, and he adjusts, pressing his hard cock right against my pussy.
Fuck.
Every memory of our one-night stand slams into me at once, crashing through my defenses as I kiss him deeper.
His tongue moves with mine, hot, demanding, relentless—making me obey every stroke, even though he said I’d be kissing him.
I should stop. I don’t. I can’t.
He tastes too fucking good—whiskey and lime, sin and heat.
His scent floods my senses, weaving through my mind until it’s all I know. His body is so strong, so solid, so secure around me. This is wrong.
But it’s so fucking hot I don’t care.
I gasp then kiss him again, nipping his lip when he tries to take control. I make him wait. Make him be patient. Make him kiss me slowly—because for once, I’m in charge.
His hips roll against mine. His hands tighten around my wrists. He lowers himself farther, the weight of him pressing into me. I feel his arms shaking. My stomach flips.
I arch against him, desperate, drowning—then kiss him again, sucking his tongue into my mouth until?—
A feral growl rips from his throat. His knee shifts. Fuck. I pull back. I have to. One of us needs to have control. Angelo stares at me, cheeks flushed, eyes, wild—primal.
I swallow hard, trying to clear my head of his scent, his taste—of all of it.
“There’s your kiss.”
His lips part, panting, his chest rising and falling just as fast as mine.
