Page 110 of A Vicious Love

Sienna’s fingers lifted to my wrist. Her thumb moved once over my pulse. She leaned forward.

“Yes.” She murmured.

My mouth touched hers.

The first kiss was careful. A stupid word for it, maybe, considering the state of me. I had spent half the night imagining every inch of her out of that dress. But it was careful. My hand at her waist stayed still. My mouth pressed against hers once, restrained enough to give her space to refuse.

She kissed me back. Soft at first. Her fingers tightened around my wrist, and whatever restraint I had been pretending to own went thin.

I pulled her closer.

She made a small sound against my mouth.

I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding behind her back. Her black hair fell around my fingers when I cupped the back of her neck.

She tasted like champagne and fruit.

Too fucking sweet. I pulled her onto my lap. Slow enough to let her stop me. Her knees came down on either side of my thighs, dress sliding high enough that my head went empty for half a second. Her hands landed on my shoulders. Her breath broke.

“Jamison.”

I wanted to earn another name out of her mouth.

I kissed her again, harder.

Her body fitted against mine so perfectly I groaned into her mouth. Small waist under my hands. Warm thighs bracketing mine. The soft weight of her pressed against the hard line of me.

When I rolled my hips up, she gasped.

Then she moved back against me.

Christ.

I grabbed her hips.

“Again,” I said against her mouth.

Her eyes opened, dark and stunned.

“Jamison—”

“Again, baby.”

The endearment came out rough and possessive. And so fucking mine.

She moved.

A small, grind that dragged her over me through too many layers of fabric and still almost ruined my self-control.

I groaned.

“There you go.”

Her cheeks flushed. Her black hair spilled around us, hiding half the car. I liked that too much. I liked having the world narrowed to her. My fingers slid along her back and found the top of her zipper.

“Say stop,” I told her.

She stared at me.