The heat of him seeps into me, his bare chest warm, solid, muscles tensed like he’s fighting himself even now.
“You can’t just say shit like that,” he mutters, his voice lower, rougher than before.
I swallow, pulse hammering. “Why not?”
His fingers flex against my back. His other hand comes up, skimming up my side, gripping my hip. “Because it makes me want to do things I shouldn’t.”
I barely have time to react before his mouth crashes onto mine.
It’s not slow. Not tentative. There’s nothing hesitant about it. It’s pure, raw need. The kind that’s been simmering between us for days, maybe even since the moment we met.
His hands roam, gripping, kneading, exploring like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me. One hand slides up, cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my nightdress, his thumb rolling over my nipple until I gasp into his mouth.
I clutch his shoulders, feeling the tension in them, the heat on his skin. He’s holding back, but just barely.
His teeth scrape my bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping into my mouth, taking control, making me feel dizzy and weak in the best way possible.
His other hand drags up my thigh, bunching up the fabric of my nightdress as he grips my ass and pulls me harder against him. I can feel him, thick and hard against my stomach, and my whole body clenches with want.
“Zane,” I whisper, my fingers digging into his back.
He groans, breaking the kiss just long enough to mutter, “Tell me to stop.”
I don't. I can’t.
Instead, I pull him down for another kiss.
Zane growls against my lips, the sound vibrating through my entire body. His grip tightens on my ass, pulling me even closer, grinding me against the hard length pressing into my stomach. Heat pools between my legs, and I gasp against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging his lips along my jaw, down to my throat, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me to stop, Mia.”
I don’t.
Instead, I arch into him, my body answering for me. His hand fists in my nightdress, yanking it up higher until cool air rushes against my bare thighs. He backs me up until my spine meets the door, his hands roaming, gripping, claiming every inch of exposed skin.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “This is a bad idea.”
But he's already pushing the flimsy straps of my nightdress down my shoulders, his mouth following their path, his tongue leaving wet, burning trails across my collarbone. When he gets to my breasts, he pauses, his breath ragged.
“Zane,” I whimper, my fingers sliding into his short hair, tugging.
That’s all it takes.
His mouth closes over my nipple, hot and wet, sucking hard while his other hand kneads the other breast. Pleasure shoots straight through me, sharp and electric. I cry out, my legs trembling.
“Fuck, Mia,” he groans, rolling his tongue over the hardened peak, flicking it, teasing me until my hips buck against his.
I feel desperate, frantic. Zane lifts me easily, his strong hands gripping my thighs as he presses me harder against the door. I lock my legs around his waist, my arms tight around his neck as he kisses me again, deeper, rougher, his cock grinding against my soaked panties through his sweatpants.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he grits out, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate circles. “That for me?”
I moan in answer, rocking against him, chasing the friction.
He growls, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he carries me toward the bed, laying me down without ever breaking the kiss. His mouth moves lower, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down my stomach as his hands shove my nightdress up, baring me except my panties.
“Fuck, I can’t think straight,” he groans.
Then he’s spreading my legs, settling between them. The first slow lick of his tongue over my clit makes my entire body jolt.
