He laughs, low and teasing, and another rush of arousal settles between my legs. He guides me back to the bed, and his mouth returns to mine. Our kiss turns more urgent, searching and indulgent. I don’t know whether it’s the warmth of him on top of me, between my legs, or his familiar and intoxicating scent, or the way he tastes, like we were designed to kiss like this. Or maybe it’s the helpless, frustrated moan as I rock my hips against his.
Or maybe it’s the way his hands move over me like he can’t get enough. There’s a hesitation to his movements, though, like he’sstill holding back, and when I reach for the thick bulge straining against the front of his pants, his hands wrap around my wrists and he pulls them away.
“Tate,” I protest. I bet his cock is incredible, and I bet the noises he’d make if I touched him are, too.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe you should just let go.” My stomach dips with nerves. Hinting at what I really want from him is terrifying.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His lips drop to my neck, working down my cleavage, hands still around my wrists. “I can’t lose control around you, Jordan. I’ll never get it back.”
Would that be so bad? “I like you losing control with me.”
It’s exhilarating, telling him little truths like this. Addictive. Terrifying. Adrenaline rushes into my bloodstream. My panties are damp.
“I like it, too, honey. Too much.” He sounds like he’s in physical pain.
“Be selfish with me,” I whisper. “Take what you need.”
Like my words undo him, he groans. He slides one bra cup down before his lips find the stiff peak and I arch at the wet heat. Spirals of need whirl through me, winding me up, and he sucks hard, pulling a desperate, surprised noise from me.
My bra comes off and he lowers himself on top of me to kiss me, groaning like I’m exactly what he needs, and pleasure spreads throughout my body. Under my palms on his chest, his heart beats a rapid, drumming pace, and I can’t take this anymore. I need skin to skin.
I find the knot of his tie and tug, loosening it. He undresses in hurried, sharp movements, like he can’t bear to not touch me for a second. He yanks his belt unbuckled, eyes on me, and I’m so turned on I could die. He tosses his shirt and then his pants somewhere on the floor before his hands return to my body, mapping myslight curves, testing the softness of my skin, memorizing every dip and swell.
His fingers come to the sides of my panties and he slides them down an inch, and then another.
“I swear to god, Tate, if you don’t hurry this along, I’m going to sell the team myself.”
His low laugh makes me grin. “Frustrated?”
“Yes.” I’m full of sparks and knots and butterflies, so tense I could snap.
“Good.” His mouth tips. Tate Ward wearing a wicked smile should be illegal. “How does it feel to be on that side of things?”
Men don’t do this, in my experience. Everything is quick and hurried and usually unsatisfying, but Tate draws it out like he wants to make the most of it. Like he wants to savor me.
“Annoying,” I bite out, lifting my hips to meet his hand but he evades the maneuver. “And amazing,” I admit.
His low laugh makes the admission worth it. “Poor Jordan,” he says in a low, teasing voice. “God, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He swallows, looking over me with an edge to his eyes like he can’t get enough, and sighs. Yanks my underwear down so I’m bare to him, eyes between my legs.
On instinct, my knees draw together but his hands are on my inner thighs, pressing, gentle but firm.
“Please. Don’t.” His eyes meet mine, heavy-lidded and helpless. “Let me.”
I let him push my legs wide again, watching as his throat works, eyes on my center. He shifts higher on his elbows, moving up the bed before his hands clasp my hips, his face drops to my center, and he takes a deep, indulgent inhale. Arousal twists low in my abdomen as he lets out a pleasured groan.
“Holy fuck. You smell incredible.”
His voice is incredulous, but self-consciousness surges throughme. Again, my knees try to snap shut but Tate’s wide shoulders are in the way.
“Don’t,” he tells me, more firm this time.
“You can’t do things like that,” I say, laughing a little.
“Oh, can’t I?” He lifts his head with a dark, cocky smile, like he can do anything he wants.
Another wave of arousal rushes through me, warming me, and he turns his attention back to between my legs, drawing his hands up until he meets the sensitive creases of my thighs.
