Page 83 of Sin Bin Daddies
I should.
I don’t. His lips brush the back of my neck, his breath hot, teasing.
A shiver races through me.
Damn him. Damn my body for reacting.
I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze. His stormy gray eyes lock onto mine, dark and unreadable.
And then he kisses me.
Hard.
The fight drains out of me in an instant, melting into something dangerous, something inevitable. His fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head, deepening the kiss.
I don’t stop him.
Even though I should.
Even though I know this is only going to end in heartbreak.
But for now, I don’t care. Because Leo still has this hold on me—one I can’t seem to break.
His mouth moves to my ear, voice thick with need. “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” His breath fans hot against my skin. “Sitting here, reviewing plays, trying to focus—when all I can think about is you?”
I grip the door frame, my pulse hammering. I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t encourage this, but the words slip out anyway. “What do you think about?”
His hand trails down my waist, fingers brushing over my stomach, then lower. My body clenches in anticipation.
“You,” he rasps. “How you taste. How you sound when you—” His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my leggings, and I gasp.
My body betrays me, my legs parting instinctively. His fingers find me, tease, stroke, and the slick evidence of my arousal makes him curse under his breath.
“Damn it, Maddie.”
I brace my hands against the door, trying to hold myself up, trying not to drown in the sensation as he works me over with expert precision. I whimper, my forehead pressing against the wood.
“Still trying to move on?” he taunts, his free hand gripping my hip, holding me steady as his fingers push deeper.
I can’t answer. I can’t do anything but chase the pleasure building inside me, fast and dizzying. He knows exactly how to unravel me, how to push me to the edge until I’m nothing but raw nerves and desperate gasps.
I break with a muffled cry, my body clenching around his fingers, my nails scraping against the door. He groans, pressing his lips to my shoulder as I tremble against him.
But it’s not enough.
And he knows it.
In one swift motion, he turns me around, lifts me up, and places me on top of the desk. My heart stutters as he shoves papers, pens, and his tablet aside, clearing the surface without care.
His mouth crashes into mine, desperate, hungry. I kiss him back just as fiercely, tugging at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, his heat.
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. His breath is ragged. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t. I can’t.
Instead, I pull him closer, dragging my nails down his back as his name spills from my lips like a prayer.
He groans, his forehead pressing against mine for a split second—then he takes what we both need.
