Page 44 of Enemies to Lovers

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, and I chuckle.

“I can’t move my hands.”

“Oh…” She loosens her hold, but I like the tightness—love her boldness. I pull my hands from under her shirt and move it to the zipper of her hoodie. I slide it down, kissing her neck, and she helps me ease it from her shoulders. Her bra hangs loose under her tank top, her skin nearly matching the pink. I soak in the beauty of her; even haphazard and messy, she’s gorgeous.

“Are we still on the one?” I ask, toying with the bottom of the tank top. “I want this off.”

She tugs my shirt. “You first.”

I rip my shirt off so fast, she jerks back, dodging my flailing arms. That adorable giggle fills the air, and I dive for her tank top.

“Now you.”

“You didn’t even give me time to appreciate!” Her amused laughter muffles as I pull the pink top and her bra off in one fell swoop. Her long braid flops over her shoulder, covering one of her breasts. I have no shame in gawking, sweeping her hair back so I can get a better look.

She’s so soft-looking. I want my hands on every bit of her, the squeezable parts of her stomach and hips, the curves of her large breasts… She’s unabashed, letting me drink her in without hiding or shrinking, and that confidence is the sexiest thing about her.

I barely register her hands on me, her nails tumbling over muscles I wish were more defined. A smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she scratches through my chest hair, her eyes taking in her fill as much as mine are. She touches the tattoo on my upper arm, tracing over the shape of the full moon.

“Well, this is just stupidly unfair.” She playfully pinches my stomach. “Your face is already sexy, and now this?” She waves a hand at me, and I laugh, setting my hands on her thighs and sliding her to the edge of the counter.

“As someone who is perfect, you shouldn’t be jealous of those of us who are trying to be.”

She shakes her head, giving me an Eskimo kiss. “Perfection is non-existent. The sooner you realize that, the happier you’ll be.”

She’s probably right. She always is. I cover her mouth with mine once more, taking full advantage of “this still counts as one.” Her breasts press against my chest, and my dick strains in my jeans, almost painfully. I hitch her into me, begging for some relief. She gasps into my mouth as her heat meets my erection, and then her tongue slides over mine again.

I take the hint and pull her into my arms. She clings on as I carry us both to my bedroom. A couple of tails smack my legs, and I trip my way to the mattress.

“Damn it, Brewster!” I say, breaking away long enough to yell and for Val to laugh. We slam onto the bedspread, and I’m grateful for the soft landing. Val is in a fit of giggles that gives her skin a gorgeous color, and I hate to leave it for a second, but I’m kicking out the cock blockers.

“Out, pups.” I shoo them through the door, then shut the thing as quickly as I can, bounding my way back to Val. My lips find her stomach, and I kiss a path between her breasts, over her collarbone, up her neck, then finally to her mouth.

I love that she smiles. I love that she’s a fantastic kisser through a smile. I love that it doesn’t bother me that I know she’s so much better at this than I am.

I reach for the button on her jeans, and she thrusts her hips up to help me shuck them from her body.

“Are these clovers?” I ask, my gaze glued to a pair of green and black panties that dig into her hips a little, like they are a size too small.

She gives the waistband a playful snap. “It’s March. They’re my lucky panties.” A laugh rumbles my gut, and she smacks my arms. “Don’t make fun. They’re working, aren’t they?”

I’d hardly call myself a prize, especially after using her like I did. I hope the fact that she’s with me now, giving me “one” chance, means I’m on my way to redemption. And maybe we’re on our way to something spectacular.

I drop her jeans on the floor with a flump, then hover over her. I kiss the left side of her hipbone, then the right, and she moans and throws her head back, her eyelids shuttering. My lips paint her lower body, from hip to toe and back up. I unravel around every part of her my mouth meets, that scent pulling me under. She owns me in this moment, and she doesn’t even know it.

“Miles, for heaven’s sake, if you don’t take those pants off soon, I’m going to lose it.”

I chuckle against her skin, then give her one more kiss just under her belly button. The sudden cool air gives me a slight shiver as I lift from her, but she sits up, wriggling to the edge of the bed. Her hands meet mine, and she playfully slaps them away. I laugh as she struggles with the button, but let her take the lead. Hell, she can have control when she wants.

She manages to get the button through, and she pulls the zipper carefully, since I’m pressing against it pretty hard. There’s nothing slow about her actions—she’s anxious and fumbles, wriggling both my boxers and jeans down my legs. It’s hard to hide my amusement and admiration, and when she finally gets me completely naked, she lets out an exhausted breath, which makes a laugh tumble from my lips.

“Your jeans are too tight,” she teases, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“They seem fine to me.”

“Now that they are off, yes… they are perfect.”

I’m about to respond with a quip, but she sucks the air right out of me by pressing the softest of kisses to the tip of my erection.

---