Page 83 of Snatched
I gasp against his mouth, and he swallows the sound with another kiss.
Heat pulses through me, everything low in my stomach tightening.
He pulls back just a fraction, breath ghosting my lips.
“Elena,” he whispers, forehead touching mine. “This is… not professional. At all.”
“Then stop,” I whisper back. “But I think we both know it’s a little too late.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t.
He kisses me again.
And again.
Andagain.
It’s slow, sloppy at the edges, full of want and restraint fighting a losing battle.
When he finally forces himself to pull back, he looks ruined.
Hair messed from my hands.
Breathing hard.
Eyes blown wide.
“We can’t…” he says, voice hoarse. “We’re supposed to keep this simple.”
“Then we’re doing a terrible job,” I murmur. “Because nothing about this is simple.”
He huffs out a laugh, like he’s broken, amazed, and maybe a little lost.
His eyes search mine, the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air between us. "What do we even do now?" he asks, his fingers still lingering at my waist, as if afraid to let go.
"I don’t know," I admit, breathless. "But I don’t want to stop."
He hesitates, his gaze flickering to my lips before locking back onto my eyes. There’s a hunger there, a desperate need that mirrors my own. “Elena, if we keep going…”
“Then let’s keep going,” I cut in, emboldened by the thrill of the moment. My heart races as I lean in again, pressing my mouth to his, tasting the warmth of his breath.
This kiss is different. More urgent, more demanding. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as his hands explore the curve of my back, mapping out every inch.
“God, you feel…” he murmurs against my mouth, trailing off as if the word escapes him.
“Feels right,” I whisper, my mind racing. “I’ve wanted this for too long.”
His hands tighten on me, and I can feel the tension radiating off him. “But what about the gym? The training?” He asks, breathless, but the fire in his eyes betrays his own wavering resolve.
“Right now, I don’t care about any of that,” I reply, feeling alive, daring him to respond.
His lips crash against mine again, rougher this time, igniting something wild inside me. We stumble back, caught in awhirlwind of heat and urgency, until my back hits the wall next to a weight bench. His body presses against mine, a delicious weight that sends shivers down my spine.
“Do you understand what you’re doing to me?” he asks, pulling back briefly, his breath a mix of disbelief and desire.
“I think I do,” I tease, my voice low and sultry. “And I think you like it.”
He groans, his forehead resting against mine as he fights against the heat building between us. “You have no idea.”
