Page 35 of I Could Be Yours

“Because the dark is always trying to consume the light.”

He pauses for a moment, eyes on me. “Not inaccurate.” Then he slants his mouth over mine.

I part for him, and we both make needy, relieved noises as our tongues brush. Those dance lessons earlier in the week felt like the best kind of foreplay, but my self-administered orgasm later that night was lackluster at best. I’d been angry for caving in, but I needed the release.

Nate is the most competitive man I know. And that’s saying something because I’ve been surrounded by hockey players and actors for years. I bet he’s just as driven in the bedroom. It suits his personality.

We could relieve some of the tension between us. Maybe then I’ll stop fixating on that damn kiss.

I move his hand under my shirt. His fingers skate up my ribs, and he makes a deep sound of approval as his thumb finds my nipple. It sends an electric jolt through my body that settles between my thighs and comes out of my mouth as a moan.

“Shit, that’s hot.” He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I slip a single digit into the waistband of his shorts. When I’m not met with a reprimand, I pop the button. He’s already hard. Surely we can get each other off without me mentally marrying his brilliant, grumpy, unpleasant, hot ass.

I can touch his dick and not envision walking down the aisle with him. Hell, we made out over a week ago and at no point have I moved him into my apartment. Not even in a dream. I can get mine and not become emotionally attached.

I slide my hand into the front of his boxers and grip his exceptionally generous erection. I shut down any thoughts about it probably being a pretty boyfriend dick. Nate is the opposite ofboyfriend material, but he’s excellent fuck-buddy fodder. He groans and squeezes my breast.

But then he wrenches his mouth from mine and pulls back.

For a second I think he’s about to tell me it’s a bad idea. Which honestly, it really is, even if neither of us is willing to voice that,again.

Instead, he pushes his shorts and boxers down, revealing his big, beautiful cock in my fist. I stroke the length, rubbing my thumb over the weeping tip. I’m so glad I took Rix out for a mani a few days ago.

“Fuck yes, that’s…” He drops his head and turns his face toward my neck, lips parting against the skin. His tongue sweeps out, followed by his teeth. “So fucking good, Ess.”

“How long do you think you’ll last before you come all over my hand?” I taunt.

He lifts his head again, desire-heavy eyes meeting mine as his other hand skims my ribs and travels along the waistband of my shorts. “I bet I can get you off first.”

Of course he’d turn it into a competition. “I’d love to see you try.”

His long, thick fingers slip beneath the waistband of my shorts and into my panties. They glide over smooth skin and dip between my thighs. His brow furrows as he skims my clit.

Anxiety skitters across my skin like biting ants. I wait for the judgment.

“Are you…? Is that…” He brushes over it again. “Do you have a hood piercing?”

“Yeah.”

He skims it again, sending another jolt of desire echoing through me.

“Didn’t it hurt?”

He circles my clit, and my eyes roll up. “Less than you’d think, to be honest.”

“Did you get it to make sex feel better?” His curiosity is distracting, but also…endearing.

“I dated a tattoo artist for a couple of months. He did them all for free. We broke up before they healed fully.” Turns out mine wasn’t the only clit he was playing with.

“But you kept them.” He keeps circling my clit, light touches that make my entire body sing with need.

“They heighten the experience,” I explain.

“It’s sexy. I like it.”

His approval eases the tension slightly.

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