I have no clue what I’m doing and only a vague idea of why I’m doing it. I knowexactlywhat Fox is doing, but his why evades me.
To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I care right now.
His hands land on my waist, rough and wanting, and he groans as he pulls me more tightly against him. My neck strains while I try to keep our lips together as I fall, but the man is tall. Chances of my success are at zero percent and lowering.
I let out a frustrated groan when we part.
Suddenly big on problem solving, he bends, puts his hands through the slits of my skirt to lay them on my thighs, thenlifts.
“Thanks,” I mutter, diving back in.
Hisyou’re welcomecomes in the form of calloused fingers digging into my skin to leave bruises I couldn’t give less of a fig about.
My butterflies arethriving.
I drive my hands into his thick, soft hair and tug, thoroughly enjoying the rough noise he rewards me with.
I donotthoroughly enjoy when he removes his mouth from mine to ask, mocking, “You giving up on making me your brother, kit?”
I glare, chasing him for a kiss he doesn’t let me have. He turns his head, and I meet prickly stubble instead of soft lips.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts gruffly. “Answer the question.”
I nip at his jaw instead, then lower, down his throat with my teeth and my tongue until he forgets all about his stupid, know-it-all question.
I run my mouth over the space where his neck meets his shoulder, and he curses. His grip tightens seconds before he pushes off the wall and walks us to his desk. He drops me unceremoniously on it. Papers scatter off the wood to the floor, and his stapler quickly follows them.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” he growls. Then, we clash, fighting in a way we never have before.
I am not complaining. Fighting with Fox like this is way more enjoyable than my usual poke-and-prod-and-wait-for-him-to-explode methods.
Although… I could apply those methods tothistoo…
A ripple of anticipation glides through my chest, and my kisses become sloppy as I lose focus on what’s happening now in favor of thinking about what I’ll be doing next.
“Pay attention,” he snaps, abandoning my mouth in favor of my cheek, my jaw, my ear. “If this is the only time we do this, I want the full experience.”
My nose scrunches. “You’re not getting the ‘full’ anything, Fox Blackwood.”
He huffs against my throat, raising goosebumps where his warm breaths coast on my skin.
He pulls back to scowl at me. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“And anyway,” I continue, taking the opportunity to appreciate the rumpled, kiss-swollen, seriously-freaking-hawtvisage before me. “We’re doing this again. At least once.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, and my eyelids lower. “Maybe twice.”
His next inhale comes sharp between clenched teeth as he drops his forehead to rest on my collarbone. “I’m not lettingyou get my hopes up,” he rumbles. “This is all I get for now.” His arms wrap around me suddenly, pulling me up against him in a move that could almost be described as desperate, if one believed Fox to be capable of desperation for me.
He lays three delicate kisses in the dip between my clavicles before lifting his face to mine. “And if this is all I get,” he insists, “I want your attention solely on me, here, now.” He loosens one arm from around me and brings his hand up to press his thumb into my lower lip. “Only me. Only here. Only now. Yes, Poem?”
Despite my heart racing, despite my stomach fluttering, despite my nerves rioting, I can’t quite find it in me to concede. So I do the next best thing.
I challenge.
“If you want only you, only here, only now,” I mutter against his finger, eyes heavy and hazy on his. “Then you better make it so I can’t think of anyone, anywhere, or anytime else.”
His gaze darkens.
Then he takes my challenge, crumbles it in a ball, andcrushesit.
