I want to rip it off.
Want to mark every inch of skin I can reach.
Want to make her forget everything except this, my hands, my mouth, my body against hers.
My hand slides around to her stomach, fingers splaying wide across her ribs, feeling her breathe, feeling her heart race. Then higher. The lace is soft under my palm, but I can feel her hardened nipple through the fabric.
She makes a sound when I touch her there, needy and raw, and grinds down against my thigh.
I groan against her throat. She's going to kill me.
My thumb brushes over her nipple through the lace, and she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Please." The word is barely audible.
"Please, what?" I bite down on her earlobe. "Tell me what you want."
"I—" She breaks off when my hand squeezes. "William, I can't—"
"Can't what?"
"Think. I can't think when you—"
"Good." I pull the lace down, my hand finding bare skin. "Don't think. Just feel."
She's so fucking responsive. Every touch makes her gasp. Every bite makes her arch. Every rough word makes her grip me tighter.
I could have her right here. Against the SUV in the driveway. Take her fast and hard and brutal until we're both too wrecked to remember why this is wrong.
My hand slides lower, finding the edge of her panties—
"Wait." Her hand catches my wrist. "Wait, stop."
I freeze. My hand stays where it is. Her body still pressed against mine. Both of us are breathing like we've been running.
"Stop," she says again. But her voice shakes.
I don't move. Can't move. Every muscle in my body is screaming to keep going, to ignore her, to take what I want.
But I stop.
Because even when I'm high, even when I'm drowning, even when I'm the worst version of myself, I'm not that.
I step back. Force myself to let go even though it feels like being ripped apart.
She sags against the SUV, one hand pressed to her chest like she's trying to keep her heart from escaping. The dress hangs open, showing skin that I want to mark.
She looks thoroughly fucked even though I barely touched her.
And I want to finish what I started so badly I can taste it.
But she's right.
Fuck, she's right.
I force myself to step back. Put space between us.
I turn away. Adjust myself because I'm hard enough that it's painful, and she doesn't need to see that.
