“Where do I touch you?” He leaned toward me, taking over my personal space. He seemed taller, darker somehow. His voice was thick with desire.
I twisted my fingers in the sheets so I wouldn’t reach up and pull him down on top of me.
“When you think of my hands on you, where are they?”
I tried to look away, but he caught my chin with his fingertips, turning it to face him once again. “Jada,” he said, more forcefully this time. “Where do I touch you?”
“Everywhere,” I whispered, my voice overflowing with need.
I ached for him to touch me, nearly desperate for physical contact. I tried to hold on to the part of my brain that remembered why that shouldn’t—couldn’t—happen, but I was losing control fast.
“Like here?” He trailed his fingertips lightly down the side of my face. I could feel the connection ripple throughout my entire being.
I nodded faintly as my breath hitched.
“Where else?” His fingers lazily trailed down my throat, across my chest. He paused at my breast, my nipple hardening at the contact.
My body was throbbing, screaming for a release. And the only thing that could release me was waiting for a response.
“I think about you touching me everywhere,” I whispered. Before I knew it, I was flipped to my back.
Cane placed one knee on either side of me, pinning both my handsfirmly above my head with one of his. He leaned down, his face inches from mine.
“I want to touch every part of your body, Jada. I want to make every part of your body mine.”
All thoughts of fighting my attraction to him were gone. I was putty in his hands.
I tipped my chin, and his mouth crushed mine, owning it. I kissed him back with everything I had. He growled at my responsiveness, which only made me want him more.
His mouth moved more urgently. He nibbled my bottom lip, and I couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped against his mouth. As soon as I made the sound, Cane immediately broke the kiss. He pulled back, panting. My eyes searched his, wild and fierce, as I struggled to catch my breath.
“Cane,” I whispered raggedly, not sure why he stopped when I so desperately needed more.
He closed his eyes and rolled off the bed, pacing a circle in the room.
My head was spinning. I scrambled to sit up, my body feeling bereft without his touch. “Cane?” I asked again, my voice shaking.
He ran his hands through his hair, clearly agitated. He paced around a few more seconds before he stopped moving and turned to look at me.
My heart pounded, uncertainty and confusion warring inside my head.
“I’m not going to do this,” he said quietly, his voice rough.
I stopped breathing as I stared at him in shock. “What? You’re kidding me right now, right?”
“I can’t do this.” He threw his head back and chuckled. “I can’t even fucking believe this,” he said more to himself than anything.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
His head jerked back up. “No, baby. You did nothing wrong at all.” The term of endearment wrapped around me, protecting me to some degree from the sting of rejection.
“If we do this—if I push this, you will hate me.”
“You’re not pushing anything. I want this, Cane. Ireallywant this.”
He quickly took the few steps between us and bent down to eye level. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as this,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “But you aren’t that girl, Jada. And I can’t treat you like one. I will probably have to give up my man card for this shit, but I won’t let you do this to yourself.”
“I’m a woman—we change our minds. I’m definitely that girl,” I reassured him.
