Page 95 of Scrum Heat

She gasps as I grip her ass, dragging her closer, grinding her into the thick line of my cock through my underwear. Her head drops forward, forehead pressing to mine, and she lets out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Jax, you feel—insane.”

“Just wait ‘til I’m inside you.”

She whines as her hips rock harder, chasing friction. I kiss her again and slide my hand up under the hem of her tee. Her skin is warm beneath my palm, soft and bare. My hand moves up slowly, pushing her top higher, and when my thumb brushes the underside of her breast, she gasps—sharp and real—and her body jolts.

She doesn’t stop me.

She wants this. Wants me.

The knowledge sends a shudder through my body, right to my fists.

I tug the fabric up. She lifts her arms, and I strip the tee off and toss it aside.

Fuck.

She’s perfect. All curves and heat and flushed skin, nipples already tight from the brush of cool air. My gaze drags over her chest, down her stomach, then back up again. I don’t speak. I don’t smile, I juststare—

And she stares right back, her chest heaving, mouth parted.

Her hands slide down my torso, palms pressed flat as she explores. I sit back against the pillows, legs open, arms at my sides, and I let her look at me, touch me, take control.

For now.

She pushes herself upright, and then forward until she’s straddling my waist again, positioning her hips directly over where my cock is straining against my underwear. I hiss as her hands go to my shoulders, holding tight as she grinds once, twice—testing and teasing anddaring.

I grip her hips as she gasps. “Jax—”

“I’ve got you,” I rasp.

I let her carry on for another minute before I flip her, the movement smooth and controlled. One second she’s on my lap, the next she’s pinned to the mattress beneath me, both of her delicate wrists captured in one of my hands, arms stretched tight above her head.

Her eyes go wide, and I lean in until my lips brush hers.

“If you want soft and sweet…” I shake my head, breath rough against her cheek. “That’s not me.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I don’t want soft. I don’t want sweet. I wantyou.”

My cock pulses, and I can’t help it: I growl—low, rough, barely evenhuman—and kiss her again.

It’s not delicate. It’s not slow. It’sdesperate, raw, and absolutely claiming. My tongue slides over hers, and she whimpers into my mouth as I roll my hips against her, letting her feelexactlyhow hard I am.

Her scent perfumes the air, and what’s left of my self-control snaps.

I release her wrists as my hands slide down her body—over her throat, her chest, her waist—until I reach the hem of her pajama shorts.

I look her in the eye. “These are coming off.”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“Spread your legs.”

She does so without hesitation, and I strip her slowly, savoring every new inch of bare skin. I drag her shorts down her thighs, past her knees, toss them to the floor.

She’s bare now; her thighs spread wide open, revealing the gorgeous sight of her perfect cunt, slick and flushed and practically glistening in the moonlight.

I press my fingers into the crease of her thigh and spread her wider, reveling in the scent of her curling through the air.

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