My head tips back against the wall, breath stuttering as his mouth explores. My fingers slide into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat, the sound vibrating straight through me.
Oh no.
This is bad. This is so bad.
I know exactly how badly this could end, how messy it could get, how much I’ll regret it when the adrenaline fades.
And I still don’t stop him.
Jesse’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left to pretend this is anything but what it is.
His breath is warm against my skin, uneven now, and when his mouth returns to mine, it’s slower, deeper.
I make a sound before I can stop myself.
His forehead dips briefly to mine.
“Abilene,” he murmurs again, warning threaded through my name.
I don’t answer.
I slide my hands up his chest instead, feeling the solid heat beneath my palms, and the effect is immediate.
His breath stutters. His body presses closer, caging me gently against the wall, and the narrow hallway feels too small for the way my pulse is racing.
Then his hand slides lower.
His fingers brush the waistband of my leggings, tracing it lightly, teasing, checking whether I’ll pull away. Like he’s givingme one last chance to stop this before it goes somewhere neither of us can pretend we didn’t mean.
I don’t move.
My breath hitches instead, sharp and helpless, and the sound makes his jaw tighten. His thumb hooks just barely at the edge of the fabric, a subtle tug that sends heat pooling low.
Jesse’s hand dips beneath the waistband, warm against my skin, and the sensation steals the air from my lungs. I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.
Then he strips the air from my lungs by plunging his fingers deep inside of me. The sensation is shocking, but in the best way possible.
The way he massages me is mind-blowing.
I toss my head back, my hair spilling down my back and tickling my spine, as my fingers claw desperately at his skin. I’m probably scratching him, but he isn’t reacting. He’s too busy driving me insane.
My body arches without permission, a soft, broken sound tearing from my throat as sensation overwhelms thought. Everything narrows to heat and pressure, and the way Jesse is everywhere all at once, calming and unmaking me in the same breath.
I clutch at him desperately, trying to keep myself upright. The hallway tilts. My pulse roars in my ears.
I’m acutely aware of how exposed this is—the open space, the thin walls, the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment.
I don’t care. That’s the most frightening part.
“Jesse,” I gasp. “I…”
I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.Slow down. Don’t stop. This is insane. Don’t stop.
He stills, his breath ragged, his restraint visibly fraying.
“Abilene,” he murmurs, wrecked, hanging on by his fingernails. “Tell me if this isn’t okay.”
It is.
