His grin turns wicked. He grazes his thumb across my slit.
A tiny, traitorous gasp escapes me. My breath turns shallow.
His eyes darken in approval. "There she is."
"There who is?" I meekly fume.
"The version of you who stops pretending she doesn't want my hands exactly where they are."
I open my mouth, and he pins my wrists above my head. It steals the air from my lungs. My heart beats wildly.
His voice softens. He taunts, "I'll let you go and stop the second you stop lying to me."
"I don't lie."
"You lied five seconds ago." His grip tightens just enough to send heat pooling low in my belly. "Your breathing gave you away."
"I hate you." I glare at him.
His smirk turns to pure sin. "You sound breathless for someone who hates me."
"Because you're—" My voice cracks as his thigh slides between mine, nudging me open.
"I'm what, Minx?" He lowers his head and flicks his tongue on my nipple again.
"Annoying," catches in my throat.
He cages me with his body, pressing my wrists harder into the pillow. "Annoying? That's the adjective you're going with while you're dripping onto my leg?"
I scoff.
His grin turns obscene.
"Let me go," I repeat, weaker this time.
His lips brush the corner of mine, just barely. "Say it like you mean it."
"I—" His thigh presses up. My breath shatters. "Mean it."
"No, you don't." His voice is a dark caress. "Your hips are grinding."
"I'm adjusting."
"Mm-hmm." He kisses the edge of my jaw, slow and hot. "Adjust more."
"Brax," I hiss, fighting the tremble and slowly shifting an inch over his cock.
He drags his mouth down my throat and puts the tip of his erection next to my entrance. He puts his face over mine. His expression turns serious. "If I need to fuck your attitude back in you, I will, Valentina."
I hold my breath.
What the hell did I say last night?
"My wife isn't theirs. She's mine," he claims. He lowers his face to my neck.
I whimper when his teeth graze my pulse.
"Tell me you want me, Minx."
