It felt so right.
I didn’t question it, not anymore. This was right. There could be no wrong.
My legs parted, and he moved between them. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand caught the back of my neck to hold me. Even anchored, I was slipping away. My mind was turning off. I was feeling only him, feeling the two of us. This was what I’d wanted to do since I’d learned he had been released.
His other hand fell to my hip, and he strained even more against me. He was still trembling, trying to be gentle. His tongue rested against mine, and his hand went back to cradling my face. His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Jordan.”
I shook my head, my mouth fusing against his. No words. Just him. Just me. Just us.
Grabbing his shirt, I held him close and then slid my hands underneath. He sucked in his breath, and I felt how tense he was. He was still holding himself back. I growled. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted him to stop thinking.
“Stop.” He pulled back, panting, as he rested his forehead on mine.
“Kian.”
“Jordan.” His hand caught the back of my neck again, and he held me still, forcing me to look into his eyes.
Desire swirled there along with fury, regret, and something else…control? I swallowed tightly. He was barely holding on to himself. I saw it then. He wanted me, too, maybe even more than I wanted him. Why—
He roughly answered me, “I want nothing more than to tear into you and fuck you on this counter, but”—his voice gentled—“we have to slow down and think about this.”
“No.”
His hand tightened on my neck. “Yes,” he ground out.
“No.” I shoved his arm down.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t hotheaded and demanding, but for some reason, I was liking this new Jordan. For once, I knew what I wanted. For once, I wasn’t holding back. I wanted Kian. He wanted me, too. What was the problem?
I reached for him again, but he caught my hand and held it in a tight grip.
I gasped. A rush went through me. This tug-of-war between us was a battle of who was going to dominate whom. The intoxication from being with him kicked up a notch. My blood was buzzing.
I tried with my other hand. He caught that one, too, and a steel look came over him. His jaw tightened with a new expression, one that brought tension to the air. I stilled, waiting to see what he would do next.
There it was. The dangerous side of Kian was being unmasked to me. He was furious, but he wanted me. I didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe I should’ve, but an innate part of me knew he wouldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t in him. Not toward me. Others, yes, but never me.
“What are you going to do?”
He still had my hands pinned down, and then his eyes moved to slits. He lowered his head, raking me up and down. I felt his gaze, and the lust was almost blinding me to everything. His eyes snapped back to mine, and a predator was looking back at me. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve fought back. I would’ve pushed the person away and ran but not Kian.
I wanted this. Hell, I was relishing this.
He moved into me. Still holding my hands in his, he pulled my hips out to the edge of the table, and then he slowly leaned closer to me, dominating me. I began falling back, but he caught me. He lowered me until I was lying on the table before him. I was displayed to him. He could do anything he wanted.
My one hand was still pinned to the table beside my head as he gripped my other, still on my hip. His thumb began moving up and down over my shirt, sliding over my stomach and jeans. My pulse was racing. An ache had formed between my legs. I wanted more of him there, and as if sensing my last thought, he rubbed himself against me.
I gasped again but bit down on my lip, silencing myself. I didn’t want him to go away. I wanted more.
His hand rested on my zipper. I wanted him to take it down. I wanted his hand to go inside, to touch me. I wanted more, but I was damn near melting just from that intimate touch.
“Kian.” His name slipped from my lips.
His head lifted, and he saw me watching him. A small smirk appeared, and as it did, he transferred my hand to my other one. His left hand took my hands, so I was pinned down and splayed out for him. His free hand went back to my pants, and he pulled the zipper down.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I wanted to get lost in his touch.
“No,” he said, catching my head.
My eyes opened, and he was watching me.
He said, “I want you to see.”
I looked down right as his hand left my chin and flicked my jeans open. The ache was building. His hand rested above my underwear, and then he moved them aside, too. I looked back. He wasn’t looking at what he was doing. He was just looking at me. That sent a surge of new pleasure through me, and I opened my legs even more for him.
His finger rubbed against the top of me.
Yes.
He bent down, his eyes still holding mine captive. They switched to my lips at the last second. His mouth touched mine again as his finger slid inside me, and I cried out into his mouth. He plunged his finger deep into me, and I almost lifted off the table from the power of it. I screamed into his mouth, and it was the primal kind. I wanted him to go harder, deeper. I didn’t want him to pause, but as he did, I started panting. I wanted to beg him to go again, and he did, in and out. His finger moved into me as he kept kissing me. His tongue slid inside as a second finger entered me. I felt him reach all the way to the back, and he upped the pace.
I was coming undone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t participate. He held me down with his one hand still. My legs lifted to go around his waist. He shifted, so his hip kept me from closing the distance to bury his fingers in me, but I wanted that. I wanted him inside me.
He kept going, in and out. His mouth kept moving over mine. He was holding me prisoner to his touch. Right before I was going to come, he paused, and his fingers slid out of me.
“No.” I ripped a hand free and grabbed his. I pushed it back. “Do. Not. Stop.”
He lifted his head, gazing down at me in question.
I flashed him a warning. “I mean it.”
The corner of his mouth slowly curved into a delicious grin, but instead of thrusting back inside me, his hand slid under my hip, and he lifted me in one motion. My legs wound tighter around his waist. His left hand released my hands and caught the back of my neck. He held me rigid in his arms as he carried me to the bedroom. He laid me down onto the bed, and I was still panting.
I didn’t question it, not anymore. This was right. There could be no wrong.
My legs parted, and he moved between them. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand caught the back of my neck to hold me. Even anchored, I was slipping away. My mind was turning off. I was feeling only him, feeling the two of us. This was what I’d wanted to do since I’d learned he had been released.
His other hand fell to my hip, and he strained even more against me. He was still trembling, trying to be gentle. His tongue rested against mine, and his hand went back to cradling my face. His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Jordan.”
I shook my head, my mouth fusing against his. No words. Just him. Just me. Just us.
Grabbing his shirt, I held him close and then slid my hands underneath. He sucked in his breath, and I felt how tense he was. He was still holding himself back. I growled. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted him to stop thinking.
“Stop.” He pulled back, panting, as he rested his forehead on mine.
“Kian.”
“Jordan.” His hand caught the back of my neck again, and he held me still, forcing me to look into his eyes.
Desire swirled there along with fury, regret, and something else…control? I swallowed tightly. He was barely holding on to himself. I saw it then. He wanted me, too, maybe even more than I wanted him. Why—
He roughly answered me, “I want nothing more than to tear into you and fuck you on this counter, but”—his voice gentled—“we have to slow down and think about this.”
“No.”
His hand tightened on my neck. “Yes,” he ground out.
“No.” I shoved his arm down.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t hotheaded and demanding, but for some reason, I was liking this new Jordan. For once, I knew what I wanted. For once, I wasn’t holding back. I wanted Kian. He wanted me, too. What was the problem?
I reached for him again, but he caught my hand and held it in a tight grip.
I gasped. A rush went through me. This tug-of-war between us was a battle of who was going to dominate whom. The intoxication from being with him kicked up a notch. My blood was buzzing.
I tried with my other hand. He caught that one, too, and a steel look came over him. His jaw tightened with a new expression, one that brought tension to the air. I stilled, waiting to see what he would do next.
There it was. The dangerous side of Kian was being unmasked to me. He was furious, but he wanted me. I didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe I should’ve, but an innate part of me knew he wouldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t in him. Not toward me. Others, yes, but never me.
“What are you going to do?”
He still had my hands pinned down, and then his eyes moved to slits. He lowered his head, raking me up and down. I felt his gaze, and the lust was almost blinding me to everything. His eyes snapped back to mine, and a predator was looking back at me. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve fought back. I would’ve pushed the person away and ran but not Kian.
I wanted this. Hell, I was relishing this.
He moved into me. Still holding my hands in his, he pulled my hips out to the edge of the table, and then he slowly leaned closer to me, dominating me. I began falling back, but he caught me. He lowered me until I was lying on the table before him. I was displayed to him. He could do anything he wanted.
My one hand was still pinned to the table beside my head as he gripped my other, still on my hip. His thumb began moving up and down over my shirt, sliding over my stomach and jeans. My pulse was racing. An ache had formed between my legs. I wanted more of him there, and as if sensing my last thought, he rubbed himself against me.
I gasped again but bit down on my lip, silencing myself. I didn’t want him to go away. I wanted more.
His hand rested on my zipper. I wanted him to take it down. I wanted his hand to go inside, to touch me. I wanted more, but I was damn near melting just from that intimate touch.
“Kian.” His name slipped from my lips.
His head lifted, and he saw me watching him. A small smirk appeared, and as it did, he transferred my hand to my other one. His left hand took my hands, so I was pinned down and splayed out for him. His free hand went back to my pants, and he pulled the zipper down.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I wanted to get lost in his touch.
“No,” he said, catching my head.
My eyes opened, and he was watching me.
He said, “I want you to see.”
I looked down right as his hand left my chin and flicked my jeans open. The ache was building. His hand rested above my underwear, and then he moved them aside, too. I looked back. He wasn’t looking at what he was doing. He was just looking at me. That sent a surge of new pleasure through me, and I opened my legs even more for him.
His finger rubbed against the top of me.
Yes.
He bent down, his eyes still holding mine captive. They switched to my lips at the last second. His mouth touched mine again as his finger slid inside me, and I cried out into his mouth. He plunged his finger deep into me, and I almost lifted off the table from the power of it. I screamed into his mouth, and it was the primal kind. I wanted him to go harder, deeper. I didn’t want him to pause, but as he did, I started panting. I wanted to beg him to go again, and he did, in and out. His finger moved into me as he kept kissing me. His tongue slid inside as a second finger entered me. I felt him reach all the way to the back, and he upped the pace.
I was coming undone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t participate. He held me down with his one hand still. My legs lifted to go around his waist. He shifted, so his hip kept me from closing the distance to bury his fingers in me, but I wanted that. I wanted him inside me.
He kept going, in and out. His mouth kept moving over mine. He was holding me prisoner to his touch. Right before I was going to come, he paused, and his fingers slid out of me.
“No.” I ripped a hand free and grabbed his. I pushed it back. “Do. Not. Stop.”
He lifted his head, gazing down at me in question.
I flashed him a warning. “I mean it.”
The corner of his mouth slowly curved into a delicious grin, but instead of thrusting back inside me, his hand slid under my hip, and he lifted me in one motion. My legs wound tighter around his waist. His left hand released my hands and caught the back of my neck. He held me rigid in his arms as he carried me to the bedroom. He laid me down onto the bed, and I was still panting.
