I drag my hand up the curve of her body, over her waist, up her ribcage. My thumb brushes the underside of her breast, and her head tips back, baring her throat instinctively.
I snarl at the sight.
“You like being handled, don’t you?” I can feel the urge to possess her trying to take over.
She sucks in a breath.
“Say it.”
She swallows hard, lips parting—but no words come out.
I drag my teeth over her throat again. “Say it, peaches.”
Her breath shudders out. “Yes. I like being handled.”
I groan, rolling my hips against her just to feel her moan for me again.
I flick my tongue over the shell of her ear. “You wanna be ruined, don’t you?”
Her nails bite into my shoulders. “Carson?—”
I chuckle, dark and knowing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She doesn’t argue.
She grinds into me, breath catching, eyes blown wide with want, her scent wrapping around me, pure fucking sin.
I dip my head, finally closing my lips over the hard peak of her nipple through her thin tank top, sucking hard.
She shatters.
Fuck.
I feel the way her entire body locks up before she falls apart, shaking in my arms, her nails raking down my back as she rides out the high.
I groan against her skin, my hands gripping her too tight,barely holding myself back from tearing off the thin fabric between us and taking her the way we both fucking want.
She sags against me, breathless, her face buried against my neck.
I pant and drop my head to the wall beside her.
Shit.
I need to pull back. I need to step away before I claim her.
I exhale slow, forcing myself to breathe, to get a grip, to not take this further than I already have. But when I finally meet her gaze, when I see her lips—kissed red and swollen—and the way she’s looking at me?
I might already be too far gone.
CHAPTER 31
Willow
My legs shakeas they hit the floor, my body still humming from the way Carson unraveled me moments ago. I press my hands against his chest and shove—not in rejection, but in challenge.
“We aren’t done.”
Carson’s nostrils flare, chest heaving, pupils blown wide and glassy with lust. I brace for him to push back, to tell me no, to force the space I can’t seem to make myself give.
