Page 18 of It Happened Again

“I dare you,” he said, dark and sultry. “Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t want me, Maisy.”

“I-I…” My throat constricted, unable to form the words, because he knew me too well, even after all this time.

“That’s what I thought. Now there’s only one thing I need to know.” The hand holding the bottle came up to my cheek, the back of his knuckles caressing it, his eyes dark and intense, boring into mine. “Did you give yourself away to the professor?”

My chest heaved with a shaky breath as I shook my head, although I didn’t feel the need to explain myself. When two people are stuck on a boat in the middle of a vast ocean, working and living so closely together, yes, certain feelings emerged. But it wasn’t love with the professor, my boss. Nothing happened. My virginity remained intact.

“Then unlock the door, Maisy, because tonight…you’remine.” His growly commanding voice triggered me to act. I stepped past him and fumbled with the door, my hands shaking at everything he implied. Then he took over, confidently reaching around me, taking the key card, standing so close. His aftershave became my oxygen, and his body heat, my cloak.

“Open it. Let me in.” His words feathered across the back of my neck as his lips softly brushed there. My panties soaked with wetness and electricity sparked down my spine. Goose bumps flared up everywhere. Not once did the professor’s awkward advances elicit this kind of response from me.

“Only for tonight. And Brooks,” I finally found my voice, barely a whisper. “This time, take all of me. All the way.”

Once inside, the door clicked shut behind us; the silence stretching taut like a held breath. Then his hands were on me, and my back found the wall, cool and grounding. My shoes thudded to the floor, his coat joining them, and then?—

His lips found mine—a kiss full of promise. It wasn’t just lust. It was six months of longing wrapped in one desperate breath. I clung to him, fingers curling into his shirt as if anchoring myself to something real.

He pulled back just slightly, breath huffing against my cheek. “God, I missed this.”

“Me too. But keep going. I’m not ready to stop.”

He grinned, then glanced down. “Shit.”

“What?” I blinked, still half-floating.

He raised the tequila bottle between us, that devilish look in his eyes. “Didn’t realize I brought a third wheel to our reunion.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my jaw. “Two seconds. Don’t go anywhere.”

With a wink, he ducked into the bathroom. The soft clink of glass echoed, and he was back just as fast, sleeves rolled higher, collar open, hands empty.

“Now,” he growled, stepping into me again, “where were we?”

That’s when we lost ourselves, hard and headlong, into the hunger that built over time and exploded without mercy. Our mouths became ravenous and clumsy. His hands gripped my hips as he lifted me?—

“Wait. Don’t rip my dress.” I reached down and gathered my skirt around my waist, both of us laughing again. This time, when he lifted, I wrapped my legs around his waist with ease. I gasped into his mouth when my back met the wall again, and he kissed me harder, deeper.

“Your lips feel the same. Exactly as I remember,” he murmured against my lips.

“And you still know how to undo me,” I whispered back.

He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “Tell me to stop now if you want to. Because I’m one second away from losing every ounce of control.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” I threaded my fingers through his luscious hair. “Need all of you. Now.”

He carried me to the desk in the room. In the time it took my hands to fumble down the buttons of his dress shirt, he unzipped my dress, peeling it off over my head and my strapless bra with it.

“There’s my beautiful Maisy.” His eyes roamed my body, lingering on my breasts, his hands following with sweet caresses. I felt seen. No other man had affected me this deeply.

His mouth trailed heat along my neck. I arched under him, moaning his name when his lips warmed my nipples. Between my thighs, his fingers explored the wet fabric until he found my center, stroking me exactly the way I needed.

My hands reached for him, desperate to feel the size of him, but he shied from my touch. I whimpered, and he kissed down my body, then dropped to his knees, eyes locked with mine. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he said. “Tasting you again. Satisfying you first. Lift.”

I did. His hands shimmied my panties off, then spread my legs wide. Then his mouth replaced his fingers.

I cried out as his tongue teased, licked, devoured. My thighs trembled, hands fisting in his hair as the pleasure built too fast, too sharp.

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