Page 66 of Take Hold of Me

Without warning, he folds in on himself and reaches under my arms, pulling me out of the water in one swift move. I land on his lap.

I capture his mouth before he can say another word about my job. This is not a tender joining of lips. No. Rather, it is hard lips and teeth and tongues tangling. He follows my lead, which drives all thoughts but of him out of my mind.

I push him so he lays back on the towel on top of the patio’s cement. His erection tents his bathing suit. “Let me help you with your little problem.”

He throws an arm over his face. “Not that little.”

“Not at all. Your big problem. Massive.” I wink at him as I reach for his waistband and tug the trunks off his muscular legs.

Before he can move, I lick his tip, savoring the pre-cum that had formed. For me. His back arches at my first taste. “Oh, God, Ems.”

I am in control of all this maleness. I take him into my mouth as deep as he can go. Pulling back, I trace the tantalizing vein, my fingers grazing his balls.

He sits up, his eyes the darkest hue of blue I have ever seen. Suddenly, he stalks me, pushing me back onto the towel and towering over me. Feral. Unbound. Just what I need.

His hands take the two triangles covering my boobs and pulls, untying the wet material. The bottoms follow suit and both land in a pile of useless material somewhere on the patio.

My body warms, not from the weather but the heat we are combusting together. I made him as desperate for me as I am for him. “Wills.”

Teeth bared, he runs them down the column of my neck, not stopping until he reaches my right nipple. He moves to my other nipple while his hand trails down my torso to my sex. He shakes his head. “You’re always ready for me.”

Before I can respond, he pushes all the way inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist. He starts thrusting with our own unique rhythm. He feels amazing. Deep. Different.

“Shit.” He thrusts again. “No.” And again. “Condom.”

No wonder this time feels different. I catch my breath enough to utter, “I am clean.”

“Me too,” he pants, thrusting into me three times in a rapid, shallow pattern.

“I am not on The Pill.” And I cannot get pregnant—I have a career to tolerate.What? No, to maintain. I have a career to maintain. To advance.

Our tempo is lost.

Above me, Wills stops moving, still intimately connected with me. His forehead drops to mine, our rapid breaths mingling. He thrusts once more, then stops. On a long exhale, he pulls out of me and drops to my side.

“Angel, let’s start over in your bedroom.”

He stands and helps me up. His erection—pointing to me as if in accusation—glistens in the moonlight. His fingers make a come hither motion. “Come on. I have condoms in my bag.”

“I have them in my bedroom, too.” I killed our mood. Maybe I can rekindle it right out here. Instead of walking next to him toward the door, I scoot in front of him and drop to my knees, ignoring the pain of contact with the cement.

“What brought this on? No. We’ll go to your bed. It’s okay.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyelids. I cannot even do this for him. “Please. I want—”

He bends down and picks me up. “It’s okay. I want to come inside your delectable body, not your mouth. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

He will make it good for me? I rest my head on his shoulder in defeat. “But, I was the one who broke our rhythm.”

“Angel, I’m sorry about the condom. You make me forget who I am. But it’ll be fine. We’ll start all over. I want you so fucking much.” His lips find mine and we cross the threshold into my house.

“I want you more.”

His chuckle comes out as a garbled groan when I kiss his collarbone. Maybe I did not mess things up too badly.

After Wills proves to me, twice, how much I mean to him—even using a condom—I fall into an exhausted sleep, all of my earlier fears driven out of my brain.

Until tossing and turning from the other side of the bed wakes me. Oh no, not again. Wills kicks the sheet free of his body—and mine. I turn the lamp on its lowest setting and then face the writhing man next to me.

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