If she doesn’t choose me right now, I don’t know how I’ll survive the loss of her. Telling her the truth about Dominus is a surefire way to send her packing. So that secret stays with me.
It has to.
I swallow hard as I wait, locked in her eyes. Her gears spin rapidly, but she hasn’t said a word in what feels like hours.
I can’t find the strength to move.
Fear holds me hostage—
Finally, she blows out a breath. “To hell with it.” She closes the distance between us quickly, grabbing the sleeves at my biceps and twisting her fingers around the fabric to drag me to her.
Sutton’s lips crash against mine and my brain short-circuits.
I’m frozen.
Stuck in disbelief.
Is this… is shekissingme?
She growls when I don’t kiss her back, and the sound lights a fire in me, sparking me into action.
Fuckyes.
This fucking woman has consumed me for years. Lately, it's been so much worse. I know what it feels like when she fucks my hand, when she grinds against my thigh. I know what she looks like when she comes.
When she cries.
Her sassy little pout that makes my dick hard.
Her breathy moans.
I cup her face with my hands and drag my tongue across the seam of her lips. “Open.”
She moans as she opens her mouth, then our lips crash together with frenzied, desperate motions. I lick into her mouth, swallowing the sounds of relief she makes with each stroke of my tongue along the length of hers. I shove my fingers into her hair, scraping my nails against her scalp as I tilt her head to gain better access to her mouth. Her hands dig into my biceps, my shoulders, grabbing hold of me like a life line as I assault her mouth with my own.
Fucking hell, kissing her is even better than I could have ever dared to hope.
Something bumps our table and we both jump, breaking apart as the server returns with our bowls of soup.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, clearly not sorry at all. She nods to the other side of the room. “You have an audience.”
“Oh mygod.” Sutton shrinks beside me, but I slap a hand onto her thigh and squeeze, freezing her in place.
The server disappears again and I assess our audience, realizing with a hint of regret that said audience is a family with three small children. With a wince, I give them a slight wave, then squeeze Sutton’s thigh. “Let’s eat, huh?”
Looking over at her, I laugh when I see how far she’s curled in on herself.
“Hey,” I say, trying to pull her back to me. “It’s Vegas. They’ve seen worse on the strip, I promise.”
“Max,” she whispers, looking up at me, those wide molten-amber eyes a mixture of lust and embarrassment. “I was seconds away from climbing into your lap!”
I groan, then reach beneath the tablecloth to adjust my aching cock. “Don’t tease me.”
“Max!” she whisper-yells. “I’m serious.”
“I know. But it happened.” I shrug, ready to point out that if she hadn’t denied herself so long, we might not be so fevered with uncontrollable lust, but now doesn’t seem like the right time. I doubt my favorite ball-buster would appreciate such a sentiment.
Instead, I lean over and grip the back of her neck, bringing my lips to her ear. “That kiss was better than I imagined.” I nudge her ear with my nose, breathing her in. For the first time, I’m close enough to truly smell her without my mask robbing me of the sense altogether. I pull her earlobe between my lips, then scrape the soft flesh with my teeth.
