Page 70 of Fame and Obsession

Not because I don’t want my hands on every part of her, but because I need to look at her. To see her. To be sure I’m not fucking hallucinating.

Fucking hell, she’s even more beautiful than I imagined.

Stunned, Phoebe slides down my body. Uncoiling her hands from around my neck, she scrambles to cover herself, rejection etched across her face. “I’m sorry... I mean, I thought—”

I fuse my mouth to hers, bruising her lips in a punishing kiss, and not giving a damn. Holding her face in my hands, I tangle our tongues with desperate, maddening strokes.

Kissing… Sucking… Biting…

“Julian...” She breaks away, confusion in her eyes.

“I want you, now.” I don’t wait for an answer before I’m on her again, trailing a line of impatient kisses down her neck.

I want everything…

My hands tighten momentarily at her waist, then travel a heated path up to her full breasts. When I brush my thumb over a puckered nipple, she lets out a tortured moan that turns my cock to stone.

“Julian, please…” Closing her eyes, she tosses her head back and waits.

But my control is straddling a very thin line. If I touch her again, it’ll snap, and there will be no turning back.

My hands twitch with barely-held restraint, but I have to hear it from her lips before we cross the line.

“Phoebe, look at me.”

Lifting her head, she focuses those bright blue eyes on me. Except they’re not bright—they’re the darkest hue of blue I’ve ever seen. Like the color of the sky just before nightfall.

Rich with unearthed desire.

Pulling her close, I growl my demand against her lips. “Tell me you want me.” My rough breath flutters the hair around her face.

Fuck, if I’m not inside her soon, I might die.

She doesn’t hesitate. “I want you, Julian.”

Picking her up, I drop her onto the bed with a groan. Within seconds, I’m crushing her lips again. Heat like I’ve never know consumes me like a goddamn inferno. I can’t get close enough. I can’t kiss her hard enough.

Breaking the kiss, Phoebe squirms her way out from underneath me. Before I have a chance to ask what the hell she’s doing, she pushes me onto my back and then straddles me, throwing my desire into overdrive.

Holy shit.

Smiling, she leans down and slowly grazes my bottom lip between her teeth. With that one move, the tightrope snaps, obliterating the fuck out of any restraint I have left.

The rational side of me knows I should wait until we’re both sober to fuck her. But I’m not a rational man, and I’m not waiting for shit.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” I murmur, kissing my way down her chest.

I lose my mind the moment I roll my tongue over her nipple. Her skin tastes like honey and feels like silk. When she moans, the combination of touch and sound almost finishes me.

The pressure against my zipper is unbearable. But before I have a chance to do anything about it, Phoebe rakes her hands down my chest, stopping at the buttons on my shirt. Intrigued, I watch as she bunches my shirt in her hands and pulls, sending the buttons flying.

I can’t shrug it off fast enough.

There’s a rawness in her eyes as she slips her hand between our bodies and cups my cock from the outside. I thought I was prepared for her, but I see fucking stars as she starts to rub.

“Princess…”

“Shut up and fuck me, Julian.”

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