Page 76 of Stuck with Me

“Hope they’re bringing more food since most of what was here has gone bad.”

“Don’t worry, Cammie will take care of us,” I call over my shoulder and pick up my phone from the coffee table. It’s completely dead. Hopefully, we won’t have an emergency between now and when the power comes back on.

Nico holds a glass out to me. “Guess we’re drinking these straight up since we’re out of ice.”

I go to take the glass from him, but he doesn’t let go.

“Think you can handle it?”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I snatch it out of his grip and fling it back, draining the entire glass before coming up for air. Despite the burn in my throat and my nose, the satisfaction wriggling through me at the look of awe on Nico’s face is worth it.

“I’m impressed,” he admits, taking a sip of his drink. “And fucking turned on.”

I bark out a laugh. “Thatturns you on? Because I can drink whiskey?”

“I mean, fuck yeah. It’s hot.”

My belly flips and my skin heats. I wish I could say it’s a result of the whiskey. And not that this man turns me on too. That I want to straddle him and yank that stupid beanie off his head and tug his face to my breasts.

I’m not the responsible one in this area. I don’t have control when it comes to a sexy man telling me I’m hot and who’s looking at me like he wants to do all kinds of filthy things to me. But we already not only toed the boundary line, we jumped right over it last night when he pushed me up against the bookcase.

I clear my throat past the lump of lust and find my voice. “Come, we’ve got work to do.”

“Kit-Kat, tell me to come again and it’ll be the death of us both.”

My insides burn and a thrilling sensation pools between my thighs.

“Sit,” I demand, patting the blanket across from me.

“I don’t mind when you get bossy. But I think you prefer it when it’s me who’s in control.”

“You…you don’t know me that well,” I mumble.

“No? Because I think you want me as much as I want you.”

He’s not wrong. Except maybe I want him more.

I swallow past the lump of desire. “We have an agreement,” I say quietly.

“Then we’ll toe the boundary. Again. You liked it last time, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” the word whooshes out of me.

Shit.

“I’m sure we can come up with something that involves minimal touching.”

Minimal touching?Is he insane? I need him. All of him. Now.

In less than a second, he’s lifting me underneath my elbow, guiding me onto my feet. My legs tremble, but not from nerves, from anticipation. What can we do that’s not full-on touching? Because the way that he’s looking at me, with heat and starvation, I think he wants to devour me.

And I’m ready to let him.

Leaning in, his face is so close to my neck, his breath tickles when he whispers, “Let me help you out of those clothes,” he says, his words skimming across my skin in a flutter of warmth.

Nico slips his fingers into both sides of my sweatpants and tugs them down my legs. It’s so fast, that his fingers barely graze my skin. I step out of them without thinking, I’m on autopilot. Again, he takes his time to gaze at me, his dark eyes lingering on my thighs, on my underwear.

As he gathers my sweatshirt in his fists, his breathing grows louder. This time, he pulls the fabric over my head slowly. For a moment, my eyes are hidden from him, and the anticipation of what he’s going to do next thrums in my chest.

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