Page 71 of Danger

He curls his fingers inside me, hitting this delicious spot, and I cry out, my nails instinctively dig into his shoulders.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers, his lips against my ear.

“So good,” I gasp, my voice breaking into a jagged moan that’s half pleasure, half desperation.

His long fingers are relentless, plunging into me with a rhythm that’s punishingly perfect. My vision blurs, my thighs tremble. His thumb—oh god, his thumb—is circling my clit with just enough pressure to make me whimper.

“The way you moan,” he says. “I think I’m addicted.”

His teeth graze my earlobe, and I feel the bite of it deep in my core as I arch into his hand. His fingers don’t stop, fucking me harder, deeper, his thumb changing up speed on my clit. The slick sound of my pussy is the only thing I can hear.

“Oh, god yes,” I moan, my words slurring into a single, breathless plea. My hips rock against his hand, fucking myself on his fingers, chasing the peak that’s already burning through me.

“Anytime you want this,” he growls, his lips trailing down my neck, “you ask for it. From me.”

His fingers don’t slow, the rhythm unrelenting, the pressure on my clit unforgiving. He doesn’t get tired, doesn’t let up.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, the words tumbling out of me in a broken stream. “Right there. Oh fuck, right there.”

“Are you about to come, Winnie?” he asks, and I swear his voice alone could make me combust.

I can’t answer right away, I can’t think. I’m shaking with the need to unravel. His lips crash into mine, stealing my breath, his tongue pushing into my mouth, claiming me.

“Yes,” I whimper. ”I’m about to?—”

Then, the bastard slowly pulls his fingers out just as I’m about to tip over the edge. I let out a frustrated whine, falling back against the wood.

“Why did you?—?”

I pull up my jeans and button them, trying to pull myself together.

He chuckles darkly, licking me off his fingers. “Consider it a punishment for that dating app.”

I glare at him, my chest heaving, my body screaming for release.

“Wow. Are you serious?” I snap.

His jaw tightens instead of that stupid grin, eyes dark and raw like he’s holding himself back by force.

“Dead serious,” he replies, and I swear, I’ve never been so frustrated and turned on at the same time in my life. “You’re with me. Fake or not. Until I say.”

“I disagree,” I whisper. “And you’re the one who said those terrible things about me. I was checking the app for someone who didn’t think I was just a convenience.”

A rough, broken sound rips out of him. It’s not a laugh, more like something tearing loose.

“You don’t get it, Winnie. I don’t dothis. I don’t dosoft. I don’t dowant.” His gaze slips for half a second, like he’s already said too much. “And I damn sure don’t get to want someone like you. If I have to protect you by saying those things about you, and if it pushes you away, then so be it.”

My chest aches. “I never asked you for a fairytale.”

“That’s what scares me,” he says quietly.

I reach for him anyway, fingers just barely catching his wrist. “Then stop half doing this. You either act like I’m your girlfriend—like youwantme—everywhere, or you don’t do it at all.”

His jaw hardens. “You want me putting a target on your back? I won’t do that.”

“Do it anyway.”

A sigh leaves him. “I knew you’d be a problem.”