I swallow roughly, fighting off the desire building strength and steam inside me. Expanding, shoving all theshouldsfurther away.
But still, I curl my fingers over hers. “Now, open the triangle and fold along the crease to create a new shape. Press down. That’ll help,” I rasp out as she works on a clean, strong fold with my hands guiding hers.
The faint scent of satsuma oranges drifts past my nose. Her lotion? Yeah, I think so. She must have taken a shower tonight. I draw a furtive inhale, catching more of that heady, intoxicating scent. From lavender to oranges, whatever she wears does me in.
“How’s this?”
Focus, man. Focus on the origami dog.She’s showing me the paper, and I have to blink away my thoughts and check her progress.
I stare down at our creation, at the way the paper becomes something new in our hands. Something other than what it was minutes ago.
It was a flat, two-dimensional thing. Now it’s evolved, and sure, it’s chaste enough, making origami. But as I slide my thumb over the space between her thumb and her forefinger, this craft is not so chaste anymore.
Not when a gust of breath crosses her pretty lips.
Not when her chest flushes.
Not when a tremble runs down her body.
And not when my body is made of lava, and it’s melting my will right into the ocean.
“Like that?” she asks, her voice feathery.
I coast my thumb along her finger, slow and sensual, taking my time, then spreading my right hand over hers. All my fingers cover hers, then curl over them.
“Just like that,” I say as our gazes lock.
The air between us crackles. An electric charge sparks and sizzles. Her dog must sense it, too, since he jumps off the bed, settling in on the floor.
What a wingman.
“What do I do next?” she asks, and we’re not looking at the paper in our hands.
I don’t say a word for several, weighty seconds. I just flip through possibilities. Choices. Consequences. Then, fuck origami. “You take the paper, toss it, and tell me to pin you to the bed and kiss you like it’s all I’ve thought about all day long, every single goddamn second.”
She crumples it into a ball and tosses it over her shoulder. “Take me.”
28
A LOVE BITE
RIPLEY
Banks pins me down in a flash, my arms above my head, my wrists in his hands, his body covering mine. There’s a duvet between us, but I can feel him, thick, hard, insistent between my thighs.
His chest, strong and sturdy against me.
His stubble, scratchy and just the right amount of whiskery, against my face as he seals his mouth to mine in the world’s most necessary kiss.
It hardly feels like it was only yesterday afternoon when we kissed feverishly on the side of the road. That seems like ages ago. Like it’s taken Herculean strength to get through the last day and a half since we touched.
His teeth are hard against my lips. His hands wind around my wrists. His hips roll into mine.
And I melt into the kiss. I melt into the bed. Into the moment where I’m trapped under him. I’m arching my hips, franticallyseeking friction, seeking heat. With each dizzying kiss, I grow hotter, needier.
His hands grip tighter as his kisses turn more passionate. I drown in them willingly as his mouth explores mine, and my body begs for him.
Getting closer to him is a terrible risk. Touching like this is a bad idea. It will only cause problems during the movie shoot. Yet this insistent ache thrumming in my bones has grabbed hold of all my senses. It’s owning my body and my voice.
