Page 118 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

I don't. But when I pull back so she can breathe, she says it again, quieter. “No, really. Tell me why. Please. I need to hear it.”

I smile at her. “Because I'm done not kissing you.” The words come out honest and real. “Done nearly hurting myself trying not to touch you. Done pretending there's anything in this world I could possibly hate more than not fucking kissing you.”

Her mouth drops open. “You just swore.”

“Yes. Would you like me to do it again or go back to kissing you?”

She grabs a handful of my shirt and hauls me back down to her. “I hate you. For ever stopping in the first place.”

I kiss her hard until our lips bruise and then whisper against her mouth. “I hate me too. Stupidest thing I've ever done, and I've done some shitty stupid things.”

“I could get behind this foul-mouthed version of you.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You remember just how foul-mouthed I can be?”

She goes pink, even as her tongue runs along her bottom lip.

“No?” I tuck a knuckle under her chin. “Okay. Let me remind you.”

I gently push her down onto her office chair and drop to my knees in front of her, both hands closing round her hips to drag her to the very edge of the seat. She makes a startled little sound, hands flying to my shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Reminding you of the dirty things my mouth can do.”

Her breath catches and I know she's remembering, just as I have remembered countless times since the last time she graced me with the taste of her.

I push her skirt up her thighs, slow, and bury my face against her, breathing her in. She's everything I remember and somehow more, and I hook two fingers into the edge of her underwear and drag it down her legs, mouth already working its way up the inside of her thigh.

“Eyes on me,” I say, looking up into her wide eyes. “I want to watch you fall apart, Alexi.”

She nods and I know she's not going to look away. She wants me to see what I do to her.

The second my tongue finds her sweet little button, she lets out a throaty moan, one hand fisting in my hair, and I don't let up. I lick and nip until she's shaking, work two fingers slow and deep inside her while I talk against her skin — telling her how many nights I've lain in bed with my hand wrapped around my hard cock imagining doing just this, how it's been her, only ever her, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise.

“You taste like heaven.” I curl my fingers, find the spot that makes her hips jerk off the chair, and groan against her when she does it again. “Fuck. Do that for me again, beautiful.”

Needing to get deeper inside her, I hook her legs over my shoulders, tongue working in slow, deliberate circles around her clit while my fingers curl inside her.

“God, I'm so close,” she moans. It only spurs me on and I move my fingers to her clit as I ram my tongue deep inside her. Her whole body stiffens just before she comes apart with a broken sound, teeth sinking into her own hand to muffle it.

“Don't you dare.” I pull back just far enough to say it, voice wrecked. “Don't you dare go quiet on me. Let me hear exactly what I do to you.”

She does. Moaning my name like a prayer, over and over, shaking a little more with every lick of my tongue over her throbbing clit.

When she finally stops shaking I get to my feet, and something in her face flickers, panic maybe, some old instinct that I'd sown there, and her hand shoots out to catch mine before I've even moved.

“I'm right here.” I lean down and kiss her slow, letting her taste herself on my mouth, until I feel her believe it. “I'm not going anywhere near that door. I promise.”

Then I step back and undress, and she watches me do it, eyes dragging over every inch of me, of my aching cock, like she's committing me to memory, teeth pulling at her bottom lip in a way that has me even more painfully hard by the time my pants hit the floor.

“Keep looking at me like that,” I tell her, “and this isn't going to last as long as I'd like it to.”

I take her hand, pull her up out of the chair, and sit myself down in it instead. She slips out of her dress and then I guide her down to straddle my lap.

“I've got a condom in my wallet,” I say, so she knows she has a choice, even with my hands already gripping her hips like I'll die if she gets up. “Do you want me to use it? All you have to do is nod.”

“I've slept with Zachary. And Marcus.” She says it steady, watching my face for a reaction I don't let her see. “Without one. They've both told me they've never done that with anyone else.” A pause. “You get to make the call. But I trust you.”