He pushes me gently against the rough wood of the shed wall, and the bite of it against my back is a shock that makes me gasp.
Then his mouth is on mine again, and I forget everything else.
This kiss is different. There's no hesitation now, no slow build. It's immediate and consuming, his tongue sweeping in to claim every inch of my mouth.
His hands are in my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wants it, holding me still while he devours me.
I whimper into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it belongs with him.
One hand slides down, gripping my hip, then lower, squeezing my ass hard enough that I rise onto my toes.
The other stays tangled in my hair, keeping me pinned. I can't move unless he lets me.
I can't breathe unless he gives me air. And I love it. God help me, I love it.
"These hands," he murmurs against my lips, then pulls back just enough to look at me. "You were watching them earlier, wondering what they'd feel like."
He brings his hand up between us, slowly, letting me see every scar, every callus. He traces it down my throat, over my collarbone, and I shiver.
Then he moves lower, over the swell of my breast, his thumb brushing across my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress. I gasp, arching into the touch. "Answer me," he says roughly. "Did you wonder?"
"Yes," I breathe. "Yes, I wondered."
His smile is sharp and satisfied. He pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, just enough pressure to make me cry out, then soothes it with a slow rub. "Wonder no more."
His mouth drops to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I melt.
My hands are on his shoulders, clinging for dear life as he kisses and bites his way down to my collarbone, sucking hard enough that I know he'll leave a mark. I should care.
I don't.
I want him to mark me. I want proof that this happened, that a man like him wanted me enough to claim me. "Gabe," I whisper, and he growls against my skin.
"That's right. Say my name." His hand slides down my side, over my hip, then between us, pressing against the damp fabric between my thighs. "You're soaked. Fucking drenched for me."
I whimper, embarrassed and turned on beyond belief. He rubs me through the dress, slow and firm, his fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. My knees buckle, but he holds me up, his body pinning me to the wall. "Please," I gasp, not even sure what I'm begging for.
"Please what?" He lifts his head, eyes dark and demanding. "Tell me what you need, Lena."
"I don't… I can't?—"
"Yes, you can." He presses harder, the friction making my vision blur. "Tell me."
"More," I finally choke out. "I need more."
He stills his hand, and I want to scream. "More what? More of this?" He rubs again, just once, a tease. "Or more of me?"
"Both. Everything." The words spill out, honest and raw. "I want everything."
His smile is wolfish. "That's my girl."
He drops to his knees in front of me, and my brain shorts out completely.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress up, up, until it's bunched around my waist.
My panties are soaked through, and he makes a low sound of approval as he presses his face against the fabric, breathing me in. "Fuck, you smell good." He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls them down.
I step out of them on autopilot, my hands braced against the shed wall. Then his mouth is on me, and I see stars.
