“Are you rejecting me because you don’t want me?” I asked, stomach twisting at the vulnerability the words created. “Or because we’re not supposed to?”
“Baby,” he started, sounding pained. His hands lifted, both pushing my hair behind my ears, the touch impossibly gentle for such a big man. “I’m not rejecting you. Don’t think I’m even capable of that.”
I leaned my forehead against his, taking a deep breath. “No one has to know,” I told him.
“You don’t know how much I want that to be true.”
“It can be.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Well,” I said, sitting back to smirk down at him, “I’m relatively sure no one is going to directly ask me if we had sex.”
“Fair,” he agreed. His hands seemed incapable of staying off me, moving to rest on my hips and tightening. “But…”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“What? Fuck no.”
“Say mean things about me after we hook up?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s why the rules are in place,” I told him. Even though I had no idea if that was true. “If you’re not going to be a jerk afterward, and we are both acknowledging that this has to staybetween us, and we are both consenting despite everything… why can’t we?”
“You’re making it hard to—” he started.
But he cut off when I readjusted my position until his cock was pressed against the juncture of my thighs.
“Not what I meant,” he said, shooting me a devilish little smirk.
“You can say no,” I said, rolling my hips.
“I really fucking can’t,” he said, breath going ragged.
His hands slipped from my hips to my ass, dragging me against him again and again. Until my head was thrown back and my little whimpers started to grow louder.
Perish sat up, one arm anchoring across my lower back, the other grabbing the back of my neck.
Then his lips were on mine.
Hard.
Hungry.
He caught my lower lip between his, sucking gently before adjusting the angle and devouring me.
My cries muffled against his lips as my hips rocked wildly against him, chasing something that remained just out of reach.
Perish’s lips ripped from mine, his head dipping to tease his lips and tongue and teeth up the side of my neck.
Then he pulled back, his hands going to the hem of my tank top and starting to lift.
I lifted my arms, allowing him to pull the material free.
He tossed it to the ground before his hands were on me—cupping, squeezing, fingers circling, rolling, pinching.
“Shh,” he murmured, face between my breasts. “Or I have to stop.”
