“Careful,” he says.
I smile against his mouth. “You always say that.”
“You still never listen.”
“Yet you married me.”
“Best mistake I ever made.”
My chest goes soft.
My body goes hot.
Terrible combination.
He walks me backward until my knees hit the mattress. Then he turns me, bends me forward, and presses one broad hand between my shoulder blades.
My breath catches.
“Jayce.”
“You started this,” he says, voice rough against my ear.
“I did not.”
His hand slides over my hip. “Liar.”
The word scrapes over me.
I brace my hands on the bed as he moves behind me. His fingers catch the waistband of my leggings and drag them down my thighs, taking my panties with them.
Cool air brushes my skin.
His hand follows.
Hot.
Possessive.
Familiar.
He palms my hip, then my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.
“You still like that,” he mutters.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His hand comes down with a sharp smack.
My whole body jolts.
“Liar.”
I bite my lip, fighting a sound.
He bends over me, chest against my back, mouth at my ear.
“Quiet, love,” he rasps. “Unless you want me to make you beg louder.”
