“Jordan,” he murmurs when my hand falls away, and one hand slides down to my ass, gripping. “Everything about you is just—” He breaks off, kissing me hard, his other hand still firm in my hair. Fully in charge.
Thisis what I want.Thisis what I’ve been thinking about since we kissed—no, earlier. Maybe years ago. Pushing his buttons with the hope that he’d snap.
He’s snapping, and it’s delicious. He’s taking what he wants, shedding the patient, wise exterior and being selfish.
My blood hums with lust and I rock my hips forward, against his erection. His thick ridge hits merightin the perfect spot and I arch as sparks scatter up my spine. A desperate, humiliating noise slips out of me, but I don’t care. My body craves his, my mind spins, and my blood races, pounding through me, begging for more.
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” he murmurs before taking my bottom lip between his teeth.
“I am. You’re always so—” I break off as he takes my mouth for another bruising, demanding kiss. “Respectable.”
He huffs a laugh, but I rock my hips forward, pressing against that spot again, and oh god, it’s perfect. It’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed. What I’ve been craving my entire life.
Tate Ward is going to ruin me. Nothing will ever be as good as this, right here, grinding on his lap.
His head has fallen back against the couch, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing hard. His hips rise to meet mine. God, I wish I could pull him out and touch him. See him and taste him. I can’t stop this, though. And from the bruising grasp on my hip and the agonized expression on his face, he wouldn’t let me.
His head snaps up, eyes open and alarmed, inhaling sharply. “Holy fuck. We should slow down.”
His arms tighten around me and I’m in the air, flipped onto my back, Tate lowering me down to the couch and settling between my spread legs. He rocks against me again and god, it’sgood. It’s so good. His eyes cloud with lust, searching mine.
“Are you close?” He doesn’t wait to see if I’ll be honest; he knows. He winces like the truth causes him physical pain, and I swear I feel him pulse against me. “You are. Fuck, Jordan. You could come like this, couldn’t you?”
Heat tightens inside me, a knot of pressure forming at the base of my spine, and my eyes close.
His hand returns to my hair and he hauls my mouth back to his.He kisses me deeper, sucking on my tongue in a way that obliterates every thought in my head, while he drags himself against me again.
I feel it, the moment he passes the point of no return. The moment he can’t stop himself. Whatever last shred of control he was holding on to evaporates, and his arms slide around me, so tight I can barely breathe.
“Shit,” he says, low and ragged, with an expression that’s half-pleasure, half-confusion.
He holds me flush to him like I’m his toy to play with, to fuck, as he bucks against me. I’ll be sore and bruised from this, and it’s heaven. Watching Tate lose his mind, with his head buried in my neck, moaning my name as he shudders, it’s a drug.
Watching his release is better than having my own.
“Fuck,” he gasps, his cock pulsing against me, still trapped inside his pants. “Jesus fuck, Jordan.”
He doesn’t let go of me, just breathes hard against my neck like I’m his. I’ll admit it—I love being what he needs. I love being what pushes him over the edge.
He pulls back to study my eyes, still panting, blinking like he’s stunned and confused.
The lights come back on, bright and jarring. The appliances in the kitchen start humming again. In another room, something beeps.
Reality knocks me sideways. Oh god. What am I doing?
Bea. Upstairs. Sleeping. What if she saw us? How confusing would that be, for Tate to explain that this isn’t going to happen again? That we aren’t anything?
I don’t even let myself dream. Don’t let myself imagine us together. Nothing lasts forever, and someone like Tate would never, ever choose me. Not for real.
There’s a pinch in my throat that this was the last time. It wasn’t enough.
It has to be, though.
In an instant, I’m out from beneath him, standing, arms wrapped around myself wearing his stupid sweatshirt. My panties are damp, my heart is still pounding, and we must have used up all the air in here because I can’t get a full breath.
“Jordan.” He takes a step toward me, and like we’re same-polarity magnets, I step back.
It kills something inside him. I see it in his eyes, the sinking disappointment.
