“What’s the matter? The only way you’ll let me close is if I play by your rules?”
His words were right on the mark. I nodded, stung by his rejection of what I was offering. “You catch on real quick.”
“Maybe I have a few rules of my own.”
My heart skipped at the dangerous glint in his eyes. Immediately, I sensed the tables had been turned. He had taken control of the situation—or was trying to.
“I think we’re done here,” I said, managing to sound cool.
He shook his head at me slowly and I was reminded of the first time I’d seen him and the realization that this guy wouldn’t be so easy to control. I immediately told myself to keep my distance then. Too bad I didn’t listen to myself. Now I was in the exact situation I didn’t want to be in. Trapped.
I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. That wasn’t my fear. My fear wasn’t him. It was me. It was in me. It was losing control, giving someone else power over me.
His fingers flexed around my forearms. His eyes dipped to assess me in my pink satin bra. “We’re just getting started. It’s my turn now.”
Chapter 8
SHAW’S MOUTH COVERED MINE and what I didn’t want to happen did. My brain turned to mush. He had a way of kissing me that consumed me, that melted my bones and made me pudding in his hands.
I still had some resolve left in me. Just enough to squeeze my hands between us and shove at that brick wall of a chest. He moved the barest inch. I was able to tear my lips away. I opened my mouth to demand that he stop and get out of my room, but suddenly he flipped me over on the bed.
On my back, I gasped, speech lost at the sensation of his big body over me, between my splayed thighs. His hand flexed on my thigh, beneath my skirt, searing me through my tights, and I found myself wishing I wasn’t wearing tights so that I could feel his palm on my bare skin.
He took advantage of my open mouth and claimed my lips in a kiss again, his tongue colliding with mine. His weight felt delicious, pinning me to the bed without hurting me. A dazed fog rolled over me, obliterating all thought, all logic. There was only sensation.
His lips ate hungrily from mine. Devouring is the only word. When his hands found my br**sts and cupped them through the bra, liquid heat coursed through me. He kneaded the small mounds and I parted my legs wider, inviting him without words.
He sank deeper between my legs. My skirt was hiked up to my hips, my purple tights a barrier that kept us from direct contact, but I still felt him there, his erection hard and probing, rubbing against me, pushing and prodding as if he could reach gratification that way. I didn’t see how. The pressure and friction of him there drove me mad. I wanted more. I wanted it harder. Deeper.
I dug my fingers into his biceps and bucked against him, grinding my pelvis to his.
“Shit,” he cursed, breaking his mouth from mine. Before I had time to mourn the loss, his hand was yanking one bra cup down, pulling the strap tighter across my shoulder. His warm mouth closed over my left nipple, taking the entire tip and pulling it deep into the wet warmth of his mouth.
I cried out and arched. It was too much, and it only got better as he turned his attention to my other breast. He laved that one with his tongue, too, sucking it deep into his mouth.
His name tore from my throat.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, looking up at me, his face even with my breast, his dark eyes promising more. “I want to hear you.”
I shook my head no. It was the most I could manage. I couldn’t actually spit the word out. Not if it meant he would stop. Because I didn’t want this to end. I actually might die if that happened.
His slipped both hands beneath my skirt and seized the waistband of my tights. Sitting back, he pulled the tight fabric down my legs. Alarm bells went off, but they weren’t as loud as the rush of blood in my ears or as strong as the clenching ache between my legs.
His rough palms settled on me then, rasping against my na**d thighs. “Oh, God,” I moaned.
He came back over me, his bare chest pressing flush with me. I felt his erection then through the thin fabric of my panties. My face burned, mortified to know he must feel how wet I was down there. And all because of him. All he needed to do was push the thin fabric aside and he could slide inside me.
The very idea thrilled and terrified me in equal parts. I couldn’t let that happen. Right now, with the core of me aching and throbbing, it might feel like I wanted him to do that, but I didn’t. My mind knew better, even if my body didn’t.
“I meant it,” I gasped as he rotated his h*ps and pushed directly against a sensitive spot that threatened to make my eyes roll back in their sockets. “I’m not ha**ng s*x with you.”
He dark eyes feasted on me as he continued to rub against me. “Did I say I expected you to?”
“N-no.” But it sure felt like where this was going.
I pushed against him, whimpering at the hard outline of his cock, unable to stop, unable to keep myself from seeking fulfillment, wanting him to fill me so badly it practically hurt.
His hands slid under me, palming my ass through my panties, grinding his erection against me even more intimately—if that was even possible.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, quivering in his hands.
“When we have sex, it won’t be a surprise.” His voice eddied through me, deep and dark, a current of heat that shot right between my legs. “You’ll know it’s coming. You’ll want it. Mind and body. You’ll beg me to make love to you. I’ll make sure of that, Emerson.”
Make love? No way. “What makes you think—”
“There won’t be any doubts or accusations after the fact,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “In fact, we’re not going to do it until you ask me for it.”
I attempted to snort, but the sound came out like a choked gasp as one of his hands slid around to cup my mound. He used the base of his palm to press up into the core of me and my head flew off the bed with a sharp cry.
“For tonight, I’m just going to make you come.” I shook my head wildly on the pillow. I was already close to doing that. “Something tells me you don’t get off that much. Doubt half the guys you waste your time on even bother to make sure you’re satisfied.”
Understatement of the year.
He lowered his head, licking my bottom lip as he spoke, low and deep and sexy into my mouth. “Not tonight, Emerson. Tonight I’m not stopping until you scream. Until you see stars.”
His words were right on the mark. I nodded, stung by his rejection of what I was offering. “You catch on real quick.”
“Maybe I have a few rules of my own.”
My heart skipped at the dangerous glint in his eyes. Immediately, I sensed the tables had been turned. He had taken control of the situation—or was trying to.
“I think we’re done here,” I said, managing to sound cool.
He shook his head at me slowly and I was reminded of the first time I’d seen him and the realization that this guy wouldn’t be so easy to control. I immediately told myself to keep my distance then. Too bad I didn’t listen to myself. Now I was in the exact situation I didn’t want to be in. Trapped.
I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. That wasn’t my fear. My fear wasn’t him. It was me. It was in me. It was losing control, giving someone else power over me.
His fingers flexed around my forearms. His eyes dipped to assess me in my pink satin bra. “We’re just getting started. It’s my turn now.”
Chapter 8
SHAW’S MOUTH COVERED MINE and what I didn’t want to happen did. My brain turned to mush. He had a way of kissing me that consumed me, that melted my bones and made me pudding in his hands.
I still had some resolve left in me. Just enough to squeeze my hands between us and shove at that brick wall of a chest. He moved the barest inch. I was able to tear my lips away. I opened my mouth to demand that he stop and get out of my room, but suddenly he flipped me over on the bed.
On my back, I gasped, speech lost at the sensation of his big body over me, between my splayed thighs. His hand flexed on my thigh, beneath my skirt, searing me through my tights, and I found myself wishing I wasn’t wearing tights so that I could feel his palm on my bare skin.
He took advantage of my open mouth and claimed my lips in a kiss again, his tongue colliding with mine. His weight felt delicious, pinning me to the bed without hurting me. A dazed fog rolled over me, obliterating all thought, all logic. There was only sensation.
His lips ate hungrily from mine. Devouring is the only word. When his hands found my br**sts and cupped them through the bra, liquid heat coursed through me. He kneaded the small mounds and I parted my legs wider, inviting him without words.
He sank deeper between my legs. My skirt was hiked up to my hips, my purple tights a barrier that kept us from direct contact, but I still felt him there, his erection hard and probing, rubbing against me, pushing and prodding as if he could reach gratification that way. I didn’t see how. The pressure and friction of him there drove me mad. I wanted more. I wanted it harder. Deeper.
I dug my fingers into his biceps and bucked against him, grinding my pelvis to his.
“Shit,” he cursed, breaking his mouth from mine. Before I had time to mourn the loss, his hand was yanking one bra cup down, pulling the strap tighter across my shoulder. His warm mouth closed over my left nipple, taking the entire tip and pulling it deep into the wet warmth of his mouth.
I cried out and arched. It was too much, and it only got better as he turned his attention to my other breast. He laved that one with his tongue, too, sucking it deep into his mouth.
His name tore from my throat.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, looking up at me, his face even with my breast, his dark eyes promising more. “I want to hear you.”
I shook my head no. It was the most I could manage. I couldn’t actually spit the word out. Not if it meant he would stop. Because I didn’t want this to end. I actually might die if that happened.
His slipped both hands beneath my skirt and seized the waistband of my tights. Sitting back, he pulled the tight fabric down my legs. Alarm bells went off, but they weren’t as loud as the rush of blood in my ears or as strong as the clenching ache between my legs.
His rough palms settled on me then, rasping against my na**d thighs. “Oh, God,” I moaned.
He came back over me, his bare chest pressing flush with me. I felt his erection then through the thin fabric of my panties. My face burned, mortified to know he must feel how wet I was down there. And all because of him. All he needed to do was push the thin fabric aside and he could slide inside me.
The very idea thrilled and terrified me in equal parts. I couldn’t let that happen. Right now, with the core of me aching and throbbing, it might feel like I wanted him to do that, but I didn’t. My mind knew better, even if my body didn’t.
“I meant it,” I gasped as he rotated his h*ps and pushed directly against a sensitive spot that threatened to make my eyes roll back in their sockets. “I’m not ha**ng s*x with you.”
He dark eyes feasted on me as he continued to rub against me. “Did I say I expected you to?”
“N-no.” But it sure felt like where this was going.
I pushed against him, whimpering at the hard outline of his cock, unable to stop, unable to keep myself from seeking fulfillment, wanting him to fill me so badly it practically hurt.
His hands slid under me, palming my ass through my panties, grinding his erection against me even more intimately—if that was even possible.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, quivering in his hands.
“When we have sex, it won’t be a surprise.” His voice eddied through me, deep and dark, a current of heat that shot right between my legs. “You’ll know it’s coming. You’ll want it. Mind and body. You’ll beg me to make love to you. I’ll make sure of that, Emerson.”
Make love? No way. “What makes you think—”
“There won’t be any doubts or accusations after the fact,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “In fact, we’re not going to do it until you ask me for it.”
I attempted to snort, but the sound came out like a choked gasp as one of his hands slid around to cup my mound. He used the base of his palm to press up into the core of me and my head flew off the bed with a sharp cry.
“For tonight, I’m just going to make you come.” I shook my head wildly on the pillow. I was already close to doing that. “Something tells me you don’t get off that much. Doubt half the guys you waste your time on even bother to make sure you’re satisfied.”
Understatement of the year.
He lowered his head, licking my bottom lip as he spoke, low and deep and sexy into my mouth. “Not tonight, Emerson. Tonight I’m not stopping until you scream. Until you see stars.”
