Page 157 of Beyond the Badge: Crew

ChapterThirty

With one handwrapped around his neck and the other gripping his bearded jaw, Cami tipped his head back and took his mouth.

It was hers.

He was hers.

And,fuck, she was his.

She began to move, using her toes on the floor to lift herself before dropping her heels along with her weight. With his hands clamped on her ass, she settled into a steady rhythm of rising and falling.

Down until he completely filled her. Up until only the crown of his cock remained inside.

With their lips remained smashed together, their tongues twisted and tangled, tasting and teasing.

She couldn’t get enough of him. His cock. His mouth. All of him.

He confessed that she drove him crazy. It was only fair since he did the same to her.

Could she deal with his overbearing bossiness for more than a few hours at a time? Could they workandlive a life together without killing each other?

She was getting ahead of herself by already building a future with him before they even discussed it.Hell, they hadn’t even gone on one damn date.

Okay, eating together at the dinner could be considered one. Sort of.

Not really.

Crissakes, shehadlost her mind.

All it took was some verbal sparring, some hot, satisfying sex, and here she was, ready to become permanent partners with this man?

Snagging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled and twisted, causing her back to arch and for her to swallow down her moment of panic just as a groan slid up her throat.

Every time he pinched and rolled, shocks of lightning radiated through her, starting at her nipples and shooting up to the top of her head as well as down to her toes. After a soft spank to her ass, he drove his hand between them and found her clit.

Him knowing where that was, along with her G-spot, made any panic wash away. Crew might be considered a unicorn. And who the hell let go of a unicorn?

Fools, that was who.

Cami, stop overthinking this! Enjoy the moment. You’re not becoming the next Mrs. Crew tonight, tomorrow, or even next week.

Her brain glitched.

Mrs. Crew?

What the fuck! Did she even actually have that thought? Being a Mrs. Anyone wasn’t even on her bucket list. Not even all the way at the bottom.

She ripped her mouth free and dropped to his lap, spearing herself on his cock. “I need a damn drink.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Now?”

“Yes and it’s your fault.”

“How the fuck is it my fault?”

Because you make me picture myself as Camila Crew.

She frowned. That was a horrible name. “I’m never taking your name.”

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