Page 74 of Unromance

His hand slid up, gently cupping her breast through her shirt, his thumb brushing across her nipple, eliciting a whimper of relief from her. “Is this what you want?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed.

His mouth grazed along her neck, her collarbones, his hands pushing up her shirt to expose her chest. Her hands left his back long enough to guide her shirt over her head. She buried her hands in his dark curls as his teeth and tongue took turns nipping and soothing, working in tandem with his fingertips that circled and teased.

“What about this?” he asked, his mouth moving lower.

She tensed, her hand in his hair tightening. “No,” she rasped, surprising herself. Who was she? She never turned down oral, but right now, she wanted him on top of her, inside of her, surrounding her, filling her. Her body was practically buzzing with the need of it. “I want—” She gestured with a limp hand toward the bedside table, and she swore his gaze darkened.

He didn’t say anything, climbing back up her body and pressing herinto the mattress with a kiss. He shifted his weight, pulling the drawer open. She caught the glint of foil as he palmed it, sliding the drawer shut and settling back atop her. His expression softened as he rested his forehead against hers. “You really are going to ruin me.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, letting the words wash over her. She wasn’t sure that she could, even if she wanted to. She wanted to burrow deep into his cinnamon roll soul, where it was warm and gooey and the exact opposite of her own. She wasn’t the one who would get to keep him and love him, but it felt nice for a moment to picture that there was no LA.

She knew what she should do. She should stop this now, before she fell even harder. She should play the role of the vixen, whisper something scandalous in his ear so that he fucked her hard and fast, like he wasn’t redefining everything she thought she wanted from a partner. But she didn’t do either of those things. She wanted to pretend for a little bit longer that she was that girl, the one who woke up with a doting partner in her bed and had lazy morning sex with them before starting her day.

“I can practically feel your beautiful brain whirring,” he murmured against her temple, placing a kiss there. “Talk to me.”

She smiled softly, angling her head to look him in the face, their noses bumping against each other. She traced the angles of his face with her fingertip, the broad planes of his cheekbones, his strong brow, the soft curve of his lips.

She wanted him, but not in the way she usually wanted things. However he wanted her, she wanted it. She wanted to feel wanted by him. The words tumbled out of her before they even registered mentally. “I want you to lead.”

At her words, his focus seemed to sharpen, like he hadn’t been fully awake until that moment. Her heartbeat seemed to slow andpick up all at once. He moaned her name into her ear before pulling back, rocking onto his heels. Cool air rushed in with the lack of his body heat, but the way he stared down at her had her flushing with a new warmth all her own.

His palms ran up and down her thighs slowly before coming to rest atop her knees, spreading them and wrapping them around his waist. As he drank her in, she took the moment to take in the sight of him, the strain of his erection against his boxers.

The full intensity of his attention, the rawwanton his face, was making it hard to breathe. They’d been in a fight not twenty-four hours ago, and now he was looking at her like—

They weren’t talking, but his expression was sayingplenty. Her preservation instinct kicked in, and she couldn’t help but lighten the mood. “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

He huffed a laugh, like she knew he would, biting down on his bottom lip, also like she knew he would. “First of all,” he growled, running a hand roughly along her inner thigh. “My name is Mason.”

A laugh burst out of her, too loud but just right, dislodging the emotion stuck in her throat and allowing her to rasp in a breath. “Second of all?” she asked.

He bent to place a kiss at the inside of her knee. “Second of all,” he said slowly, and she knew there hadn’t been a “second of all.” “I hope you’d share your door with me.”

She grinned cheekily at him as he kissed the inside of her other thigh. “I’d totally share my door with you.”

She could feel his lips curve against her skin and then part, his tongue darting out briefly before his teeth scraped along the sensitive flesh.

“And third of all—” He glanced up at her from between her thighs, her breath hitching at the intensity in his gaze, his pupils soblown out, his eyes were nearly all black. “If you throw Friendshipulent into the ocean at the end, I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

Her laugh dissolved into a moan as he lowered himself on top of her, the feel of his bare chest against hers too fucking good. She guided him closer, higher, all the while trying to work herself lower, to notch their hips against each other.

“Patience,” he grumbled. That one word, the gruff, low timbre of it, made her still. The ache between her legs grew, seeming to spread throughout her body, thrumming beneath her skin like a second pulse.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip before kissing her deeply once more. She’d been so impatient for him to kiss her before, and she still felt just as needy. Each swipe of his tongue and nip of his teeth, the way her body reacted to it felt like the thrill of a first time. She had a feeling he was having a similar revelation, his hands slowly roaming, fingers gently splaying in her hair, curling around the hinge of her jaw, the shell of her ear, kissing her all the while, as if determined to make up for all the time they’d wasted not kissing.

She broke the kiss, needing to catch her breath, panting like they’d run a marathon and he’d barely even touched her. She full-body shuddered as she filled her lungs, dizzy with the high of him. His mouth traveled south slowly, so fucking slowly. Of course he was going to take his time. It shouldn’t surprise her in the slightest that this was his style, the exact opposite of hers, though she didn’t mind it. Her back arched as his teeth scraped across the underside of her breast, the promise of his mouth on her sending a flash of heat through her core as if he had actually touched her. How was he doing that?

“Mason,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure when she’d startedshaking, but if he didn’t stop teasing her and start following through on the promises his tongue and teeth and fingers were making, she was going to lose her mind.

He hummed against her rib cage, seemingly oblivious to her unraveling. “Yes?” he asked innocently.

Before she could answer, one of his hands slid between her legs, one fingertip teasing her. Her hips bucked up, begging for more.

A sound akin to a sob worked its way past her lips, along with his name andpleaseandfuckand other nonsense.

She could feel him grinning as he brushed his lips over her navel, his finger still teasing around where she wanted it. His hand disappeared as he settled between her legs, wrapping his arms around them, palms flat on her thighs to push them open wider. She was only too happy to comply, her head falling back against the pillows at the first flick of his tongue.

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