Page 90 of Ace of Spades

And Levi Steele is nothing if not real.

His hands roam like he’s trying to convince himself I’m here. That I’m his. That he can finally have the one thing he’s forbidden himself from wanting. One hand fists in my hair, tilting my head so his mouth can blaze a trail down my throat, across my collarbone.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, breath hot against my skin.

“I won’t.” I’m already unbuttoning his shirt, hands shaking but sure. “Not tonight.”

That’s all he needs.

My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me back into the shop, into his office, out of sight but not out of danger.

Because this? This is dangerous.

But I don’t care. I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care if people will frown upon it. I can’t even bring myself to care about how his best friend,my dad,might feel about it.

We’re two consenting adults. The world be damned.

He pushes everything off his desk, including the laptop I was just working on.

“Levi,” I squeal as he replaces it with me.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he promises, his mouth back on mine, claiming and wild.

It feels like he’s been holding back a storm for years and I’m the only one stupid enough to walk into it without an umbrella.

Clothes vanish in a blur. Mine first. My top pulled over my head. His fingers skim the edge of my jeans. The roughness of his hands makes me gasp when they find skin.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Sienna,” he hisses my name out like it pains him, dragging his mouth down my chest, his beard scraping, his tongue soft where everything else is hardened. “No idea how many nights I’ve thought about this. Aboutyou.”

The look in his eyes says it all.

My legs wrap tight around his waist, his hands digging into the backs of my thighs. The metal of the desk is cool at my back, but I’m already burning.

His mouth finds mine again, messy and hungry. There’s no finesse now. Just lips and teeth and heat. Like he’s trying to consume me, undo every second we’ve spent pretending we weren’t going to do this.

I tug at his shirt. Buttons snap. And he tears it off like he can’t get rid of it fast enough.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel, dragging his mouth down my neck. “I have been starving for you, Sienna.”

I gasp when his tongue flicks over the hollow of my throat. His hands are everywhere. They grip my waist and brush under the lace of my bra before pushing it up with an impatient groan.

“You’ve been haunting me,” he says against my skin. “I can’t escape you. Not even in my dreams.”

I gasp as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, and I cry out.

It’s needy, raw, and shameless. My hips grind against him, the friction between us so intense it makes my whole body tighten.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he growls. “I need you.”

“Me too.”

His hands are at my jeans, tugging them down with urgent, uncoordinated movements until I’m bare beneath him.

He hesitates a moment.

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him. “And I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

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