Page 11 of Tempted By Shadow

We both know exactly what comes next.

And neither of us is going to stop it. Not now.

CHAPTER 4

SHADOW

I’m kissing Prez’s sister.

That thought should stop me. Should hit like a bucket of ice water, make me pull back, apologize, get the fuck out of here before I ruin everything I’ve worked for.

It doesn’t stop me. Nothing could stop me right now.

Her mouth is hot and demanding and she’s making these soft sounds against my lips — little gasps, half-formed words that might be my name. Her hands are under my shirt, palms flat against my stomach, dragging up over my ribs like she’s trying to memorize me by touch. Every place she touches burns.

I’ve got her pinned against the counter, my hips pressed to hers, and I can feel the heat of her through our clothes. Feel how much she wants this. How much she wants me.

I should stop.

I can’t stop.

“Bedroom,” she breathes against my lips. Not a question. A demand.

I don’t argue. I grab her hips and lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist like she was made to fit there. Her mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, and I nearly walk us into a wall because I can’t fucking think when she does that.

Her bedroom is small. Dark. I notice nothing about it except the bed — unmade, sheets tangled, smelling faintly of her — and then we’re falling onto it together.

The mattress dips under our weight. She pulls at my shirt and I yank it over my head, tossing it somewhere I don’t care about. Her hands are on my chest immediately, my shoulders, my back, everywhere she can reach. Her touch is hungry, almost frantic, and her nails scrape lightly over my skin in a way that makes me shudder.

I go for her top next, dragging it up and off, and then she’s underneath me in a black bra and those jeans that have been driving me crazy for days. Her skin is warm under my hands, soft, and I can feel her pulse racing when I kiss the curve of her neck.

“You’re sure?” I ask. “We’re going to regret this.”

“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

Good enough.

I kiss my way down her throat, tasting salt and something sweet underneath. Her collarbone. The swell of her breasts above the lace. She arches into me, fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks, and the sound she makes when I drag the bra down and take her nipple into my mouth — fuck. Low and broken, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. I could listen to that sound forever.

I take my time with her. Not because I’m patient — I’m not, not right now, not with her — but because I want to learn her. I want to know what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her grip my hair and pull, hard, like she needs more and she’s not afraid to take it.

I learn that she likes it when I use my teeth, just a little. That she shivers when I kiss the soft skin below her ribs. That her breath catches when I drag my tongue across her hipbone.

By the time I get her jeans off, she’s already wet. I can feel it through her underwear, and the knowledge that she’s this turned on — for me, because of me — makes something primal roar to life in my chest.

I hook my fingers in the lace and drag it down her legs. She’s bare underneath me now, spread out on the sheets, and I have to stop for a second just to look at her. The streetlight through the blinds paints stripes across her body — shadow and gold, curves and hollows.

“Shadow.” Her voice is ragged. Desperate. “If you don’t⁠—”

“I’ve got you.”

I settle between her thighs and drag my tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, and she comes off the bed with a cry. She’s sensitive, responsive, every stroke of my tongue making her shake. I grip her hips to hold her still and eat her like I’ve been starving for it. Like she’s the only thing I’ve wanted in years.

Maybe she is.

She tastes sharp and sweet, and the sounds she’s making are wrecking me — breathy moans, my name on repeat, her thighs trembling against my shoulders. I find her clit and work it with my tongue, my fingers sliding inside her, curling to find the spot that makes her cry out. She’s close. I can feel it in the way her body tightens, the way her hips rock against my face.

She comes on my mouth with her fingers twisted in my hair, her thighs clamped around my head, my name spilling from her lips like she can’t hold it back. I work her through it, gentling as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs while she catches her breath.