Page 108 of Hard Pass

Desire. No question about it. No point pretending otherwise.

Her hands come up immediately, sliding up my chest like she forgot she wasn’t supposed to touch me.

In her world of we can’t, she’s relenting to we can.

That makes this feel steady and real, because this isn’t a mistake.

This is her choosing it. Me. Again.

I revel in the warm softness of her mouth. In the moaned sighs she makes in the back of her throat. I love the soft seduction of her fingers as they thread through the hair at the back of my neck.

I don’t rush the kiss or take more than she gives. I let it build and stretch so it’s deeper than just heat. Last time I needed her to help bury my pain. This time is all about what she needs. What she wants.

Her fingers move down the plane of my back and then slide back up the front of my chest, her palms resting on my pecs.

I kiss along her jawline to just below her ear. “Tell me to stop,” I say, my mouth against her skin as goosebumps ignite beneath my tongue.

She exhales my name. “Cole.” It becomes a mainline of desire straight to my core, tightening my balls and hardening my cock more . . . if that’s even possible.

Yeah, her saying my name gets me. Knowing she wants me back even more so.

I kiss her again. Deeper. Slower. A tug on her bottom lip before my tongue dips back in for another taste.

I move the hand framing her face to her waist to pull her close so I can feel her against me without pushing further than that. Not yet. I want this to last. To remember it.

The way she softens.

The way her breath stutters.

“Still want me to leave?” I ask as I lean back to meet her desire-drugged eyes.

Her answer isn’t in words. It’s in the way she slides her hands up my neck to my cheeks and pulls me down so she can kiss me again. It’s in how she arches into me while emitting that soft moan in the back of her throat that drives me wild.

“Or do you want me to taste you?” I say against her lips as her fingers dig into me in response.

And I do just that. I set the course sliding my mouth down the line of her neck, breathing in her perfume and shampoo. Tasting her skin there as my hand makes quick work of her shirt and bra. I revel in the weight of her breast in my hand and how her nipples have tightened for me.

I dip my head down even farther, pressing kisses over heated skin, before sucking one of their tips into my mouth and running my tongue around it.

Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I love the gasp she emits.

“Jesus,” she whispers.

Yeah. Exactly.

I draw back and look at her. The soft light of the kitchen spills over her, catching the flush on her cheeks and the rise and fall of every uneven breath.

Yep. I’m fucking screwed in so many goddamn ways.

She reaches her hand out to me. I look at it, then at her, understanding the invitation is so much more than just sex. It’s her saying yes. It’s her consenting. She knows we didn’t step back from the fire willingly.

Her room is dim. Soft colors. The faint trace of vanilla mixed with her perfume. But I don’t see much else because she’s in the center of it, with the backs of her knees against the mattress, and her hands sliding her shorts down her thighs so that she’s naked. Ready for me.

I step into her, pulling her against me. Slide my hands along her waist and over bare skin that turns warm beneath my palms. I cup the back of her neck and pull her into me so I can kiss her again.

“Tell me what you want,” I murmur.

Her fingers curl against my chest, lashes fluttering up for her to meet my eyes. “You.”