Page 48 of Love, Utley

Hands settle on my hips. “Of the type of man you need.” Warm breath ghosts against my neck. “The type of man you crave.”

I try not to arch my back. I try really hard. But when he flexes his fingers against my soft flesh, I cave.

“We shouldn’t.” I try to reason— with him, with myself.

“We shouldn’t.” He pulls me flush against his body, letting me feel how ready he is. “But we’re going to.”

And fuck if that isn’t the truth.

“Turn to me,” Maddox demands against my ear.

He’s putting it on me.

Making me be the one to do it.

I reach down and place my hands over his.

It would be so easy to push his hands away. To not turn around.

So easy.

But fucking impossible.

I twist, turning to him.

TWENTY-EIGHT

MADDOX

She turns to me.

And I stop holding back.

My mouth drops to hers. And Hannah opens for me. Immediately.

Her lips part and she lets me in.

I take what she offers, then I take more, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Tasting my wine. Tasting her sweetness. Tasting the way she wants to hate me.

She presses her hands against my sides, dragging them down to my waist. And I know this isn’t enough.

Nothing will be enough until I have all of her again.

“If I tear anything, I’ll replace it,” I say against her lips.

“What?”

I tug down the front of her shirt.

The low-cut material stretches easily, gathering below her glorious tits.

Still not enough.

I hook my fingers in the cups of her bra and pull them down until her breasts are free.

“Fuck,” I groan as I palm them.

The bunched-up shirt and bra under her tits push them even higher.

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