Page 47 of Hold You Close
I want her, and there’s no way she doesn’t feel that right now.
“This . . .” she starts to say, and then her hands move up my chest. “This isn’t . . .”
“This isn’t what?”
Her fingers inch up my neck, cupping the back of my head. “A good idea.”
“Probably not.” I run my hands up her side, waiting for her to tell me to stop. I touch every curve, feel her skin again.
She was always the smart one between the two of us. I was always the idiot. I hurt her and broke her heart, but I fucking destroyed myself at the same time. She never knew that. To her, I was the asshole who fucked her and never looked back. I made promises that were broken because I got what I wanted.
None of that was true.
I wanted her.
I wanted all of her.
I ended up losing any chance of that.
Fuck, I’m a fool.
“Tell me to stop,” I command her as my hand gets closer to her chest. “Tell me now or beg for more.”
“Stop.” But her voice is breathless and her hands are in my hair.
“Stop what?” My left hand is inching up her ribcage, my thumb sweeping the underside of her breast.
“Confusing me.”
I’m feeling brave enough—and turned on enough—to brush my thumb over her nipple. It’s hard enough to poke through her bra and her top, and when I touch it, she arches her back, inhaling sharply. “What are you confused about?”
Her fingers curl in my hair. “You. This. Us. There shouldn’t be an us.”
“Nope.” I keep rubbing the stiff little peak with my thumb, and when she doesn’t protest, I lift up her shirt. “There shouldn’t.”
“Oh, God,” she whimpers as I lower my mouth to the fullest part of her breast. “That feels so good, but . . .”
Words seem to fail her as I pull down the lacy cup of her bra and stroke her nipple with my tongue. Once. Twice. Then in a lazy little circle.
“But what?” I reach behind her back, easy to do since it’s bowed toward me, and unhook her bra with one hand.
“But we’ve been down this road before.”
“It was a good trip, if I recall correctly.” I slide my palms from her taut stomach up over both breasts. The light from my closet spills into the room, but she’s still in shadow. Her skin is luminous in the dark. My cock is steel in my boxers. If she says no at this point, I will need a long, hot shower during which I will jerk off repeatedly to the memory of her beneath me in this bed, my hands on her perfect round tits.
“It was good,” she murmurs, her eyes closing while I tease her nipples with my fingers. “But it ended so badly.”
“It could be good again.” I move to lie above her, settling my hips between her thighs. “Just for fun. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, fuck.” She can feel my erection through the soft, thin fabric of the yoga pants she’s wearing. Judging from the way her hands go straight to my ass and pull me closer, I think she likes it. “You’re so hard.”
“Yes,” I say, rolling my hips in a slow, sinuous motion, rubbing my cock against her sweet spot. I put my mouth right next to her ear and speak softly. “You shouldn’t make me so hard, London. But you do. It’s driving me fucking crazy how much I want you.”
“But Ian.” She slides her hands inside the waistband of my underwear. “We hate each other. Don’t we?”
“That’s right. We do.” I lower my head to her throat and kiss my way down her chest. When I close my lips over one tight pink tip, she moans, bringing her hands back to my
head. I suck at her greedily, continuing to rock my hips above her. Pretty soon my hands are dragging her pants and underwear off in one long swoop, and she doesn’t stop me. In fact, she sits up and whips her shirt over her head and flings her bra to the floor.
