Page 84 of Speak of the Devil

The bump of teeth doesn’t matter.

Only we do.

I bend down and scoop her into my arms. Our lips stay attached as I walk back to the house, backing through the door, and when I set her on the couch. But are ripped apart when I tug her by the ankles lower on the leather couch. Getting on my knees, I slide my body so she feels my full erection between her legs. I kiss her again as I lower down on top of her.

Her arms come around my neck, and her thighs squeeze both sides of my torso. And when our tongues explore each other’s mouths, I rock against her. She feels too good, and I know I won’t last. It’s been too long, holding myself back.

I pull back, our mouths separated against my better judgment. I don’t know why I torture myself this way, but I breathe through the ache that would have me fucking her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow, much less do paddleboard yoga.

She searches my eyes. “Why’d you stop?”

“I said it before. It stands true now.” I slide my hands under the bulky sweatshirt to find her nipples sharp and stretching against the fabric. “I only want to be inside you.”

“We can.Youcan.”

I can’t.Fucking hell.How could I forget the condoms?

Distract. Distract. Distract from getting myself off by rubbing her raw. I can’t use her like that. Lowering down to the other side of the couch, I hook my fingers over the top of her shorts and pull them down, admiring her sweet pussy again. “Damn, I can’t wait to taste you again.”

And then the timer goes off.

Fuck me.

28

Cate

I lostmy appetite for food and only want Shane to satisfy my cravings. I’m convinced he’s the only one I’ll ever need for survival. Morning. Noon. And night.

Rubbing my legs together like a damn cricket, I try to assuage the ache left cold by his absence when he jumped over the couch to take the foil off and bake the chicken pesto for another fifteen minutes.

He’s very good at following directions. Maybe I should leave a Post-it where my shorts used to be. I lift, pulling them back over my hips, then lie there, trying to catch my breath. So close. We were so close to paradise.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive Poppy. Obviously, she’s to blame for sending the dish that sidetracked Shane from finishing what he started. I giggle to myself. Letting one arm hang off the couch and leaving my legs stretched out on the leather, I ask, “How’s it looking?”’

“Not as good as you.”

“It’s always been my dream to have a man tell me I’m sexier than chicken and pasta.”

He hops over the back of the couch again, landing one knee between my legs, and kisses me on the lips. “Dreams do come true.” He looks down to see the shorts back in place. “For some. For others, their dreams are destroyed by black Lycra.”

He kisses me again, and I push my head back to look into his eyes. “Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time to get the job done.”

“Wanna bet?”

I cup his cheeks with a smile splitting mine apart. “I don’t think that’s the flex you think it is.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. It is.” He starts pulling my shorts down again.

My head falls back, and my lips part to help me get air from the thought of what he’s about to do to me. “Flex away.”

It’s not the wine.It’s him.Shane Faris is a walking aphrodisiac. But I need to come to my senses.If he can wait, so can I.I stop his hands before my shorts lower any more past my abdomen. “Shane?

“Yeah?” he asks with the most deliciously devilish look in his eyes.

“We should wait and do things differently this time.” I bite my bottom lip, hoping I make sense.

His smile lessens, but the happiness never leaves his eyes. He kisses over my shorts where he wanted to be beneath them, and then says, “I understand. Slow. That works for me. I want to know you so much better. I want to know what your favorite color?—”

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