The anger that dragged me here shifts fast, turning into something else. Something worse. My hands find her hips, her waist, the back of her neck. She tastes like champagne and trouble, like the part of my life I’ve been pretending I don’t miss.
When she finally pulls back, her breathing’s uneven, her lips parted. “Clay…” she pleads.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp. My thumb traces her jaw, rougher than I mean for it to. “Say it, and I will.”
But she doesn’t.
She looks at me like she can’t. Like she’s too far gone with me, and neither of us has the strength to stop us. The whole world disappears, leaving it just her and me and the weight of everything we can’t say.
I move first, and she meets me halfway.
I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands tighten at her waist, pulling her in until I can feel every breath she takes. Her fingers bunch in my shirt, holding on like she needs the anchor.
“Tess,” I breathe against her mouth. Her name feels like a confession. “You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn't do this. Not right now.”
“Then tell me to leave,” she whispers.
I can’t. So I kiss her again. Harder. Until all those whispers swirling in my head finally shut up.
She pulls back just enough to breathe, eyes flicking over my face. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Never is,” I say, my forehead resting against hers. “But it’s the only thing keeping me from losing it tonight.”
Her breath catches, and instead of pulling away, she leans in. The tension between us tightens, making it hard to tell right from wrong.
She looks up at me, lips parted, eyes searching mine.
“What do you need, then?” she asks softly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
I drag in a breath that doesn’t feel like enough. I stare down her body. “Take off your panties and give them to me.”
Her eyes search mine, unsure but glazed with desire, as she nods. She reaches beneath the slit of her dress and tugs them down, balling up the lace panties and setting them in my open hand.
I’m tempted to lift them to my nose and inhale them, but I’ll save that for later. Instead, I tuck them away in my pocket.
“You want to know what I need, Sugar?”
She nods, her eyes searching mine. “Yes.” The word escapes her lips on a heavy exhale.
Reaching between us, I run my finger upward until I reach the apex of her thigh. Her body trembles uncontrollably. When I brush my finger through her wet slit, swiping over her clit, I growl.
“This.” I grit my teeth. “This is what I need.”
She sways on her feet, her hand shooting out to grip my forearm to steady her.
She’s so wet, she’s practically dripping in my palm. I want nothing more than to lose myself in her.
My finger dips into her entrance, and she exhales my name on a plea. When I push into her and curl my fingers, finding the spot, I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
I’m so addicted to her. I drag in a breath, my hand thrusting in and out, the slapping wet sound filling the space around us.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I whisper.
She tilts her chin, close enough that her lips graze mine when she answers. “Maybe I do. Maybe I know because I feel it too.”
“Kiss me,” I growl, and slam my lips against hers.
She grinds her pussy against my palm. When she’s close, she breaks the kiss and throws her head back, and I nearly follow her over the edge when I feel her come apart around me.
