Page 103 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Good kitty,” I whisper, unable to stay serious for long.

She’s just so fuckingstunning.

Her eyes. Her little nose. The rosy glow on her cheeks.

The adorable cat ears on her head.

That fucking corset.

I push a knee between her thighs, sliding it all the way until it settles against her. “Grind it,” I say.

Katrina hesitates, unsure, until she begins to move. Her hips start slowly, but the moment pleasure glows in her eyes, she lets herself go, grinding gently against me. I fix my knee in place, holding her, not wanting to take even an ounce of that pleasure away from her. She moves faster, harder, her breath catching in little gasps.

“Logan,” she whispers.

I claim the name, locking our lips together as she moans. I press in, my knee harder against her as she rides it, rubbing herself against me, chasing her climax.

“Logan,” she gasps, her breath shallow, her body trembling with raw need. “I?—”

I trail my tongue down her neck, from her earlobe to her collarbone. “Come, kitty kitty,” I urge, growling.

It doesn’t take long. Her gasps sharpen, her movements becoming jagged, almost frantic. When she throws her head back, moaning into the ceiling, I suck lightly at her neck, letting her ride out the orgasm for as long as she wants.

“How many times you gonna make me come tonight before you let me touch you?” she asks, her voice soft and seductive.

I kiss her, worshipping her. “I ain’t keeping score, kitty,” I say.

I release her wrists, letting her hands fall to her sides. She immediately places them on my waist, her warm fingers slipping under my shirt to touch my skin, her lips grazing mine in a soft, breathless kiss that calms the fire inside me.

Katrina chuckles. “What are you working on?”

I hum a laugh mid-suck, pulling at a fleshy spot on her neck I know will leave a mark in the morning. “Well, I thought about leaving you a hickey right... here...”

“No.” She points at the table pushed aside, yellow sticky notes scattered across it. “The notes,” she says, getting my attention. “Are you working on new stuff?”

“I am.”

“Is it for the Battle?”

I pause, wondering how much I should reveal. But then the truth hits me hard, and I know I have to say it.

“No,” I say. “It’s for me.”

“Will you play it for me?”

“I’m not sure I should.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s about you.”

Katrina’s smile lingers on her kiss-plump lips, her eyes still gleaming with the remnants of her pleasure. “Will you play it for me?” she asks again.

My stomach tightens, nerves crawling under my skin. But the moment she leans in to kiss me again, that unease evaporates.

I silently rise from the couch, grab my acoustic from its stand, and sit back down.

“It’s not finished,” I warn, settling on the couch.

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