Page 17 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
I reach for him, my fingers tracing the waistband of his underwear. "I'm not changing my mind."
He groans and captures my mouth again, and this time there's no hesitation, no holding back. His hands are everywhere—sliding up my thighs, skimming over my hips, wandering, searching, and all that exists is his touch. When he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and underwear, I lift my hips without being asked. The fabric joins the growing pile of clothes on his kitchen floor, and suddenly I'm completely bare before him.
"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he says, roughly.
I reach for him, pulling him back to me. "Your turn."
He smiles, that slow, devastating smile that makes my heart stutter, and sheds his boxer briefs in one fluid motion. My breath catches in my throat. Cooper is all lean muscle and sharp angles, and he's gloriously, intimidatingly aroused.
"Like what you see?" he asks, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite the tension in his body.
"Very much," I whisper, reaching out to touch him.
He hisses when my fingers wrap around him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Fuck, Riley."
His hand covers mine, showing me how to touch him, guiding my rhythm. The power I have over him in this moment is intoxicating.
"Wait," he groans suddenly, stilling my hand. "Not like this.”
He steps back, and I feel the loss of his warmth immediately. But then he's scooping me off the counter, his hands gripping my thighs as he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, gasping at the feeling of him pressed against me, skin to skin.
"Bedroom," he murmurs against my neck. "I want to do this right."
I hold on to him as he carries me down the hallway, my heart hammering in my chest. His lips never leave my skin, trailing fire along my throat, my shoulder, anywhere he can reach. When he lays me down on his bed, the sheets cool against my heated skin, I feel vulnerable in a way I never have before. Not just because I’m bare before him, but because of the way he's looking at me—like I'm precious, a feast to be savored.
He stands at the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking, and I fight the urge to cover myself.
"You're staring," I whisper.
"Can't help it." His voice is raw with emotion. "I've thought about having you in my bed for so long, I need to make sure this is real."
"It's real," I whisper, reaching for him. "I'm here."
He lowers himself over me, settling between my thighs, his arms braced on either side of my head. The first press of his body against mine pulls a gasp from my lips. He's so warm, so solid above me, his skin like fire where it touches mine.
"I need to get protection," he says, his voice strained.
I nod, watching as he leans over to the bedside drawer. His muscles shift under his skin as he moves, and I give in to the desire to run my hands along his back, feeling the subtle ridges of his spine. Taking the condom, he tears the package open with his teeth.
"Let me have it," I say, taking it from him.
My hands tremble slightly as I roll it on him. His sharp intake of breath when I touch him sends a thrill through me. When I finish, he catches my wrist, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my palm.
"Are you nervous?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.
"A little," I admit, surprised by my own honesty. "It's been a while for me."
His expression softens as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. "We can go slow."
Shaking my head, I pull him closer. "I don't want slow. I want you."
A dangerous spark flashes in his eyes as he captures my mouth. This kiss is different—searing, fiercer. He's finally letting go of his restraint. His hand slides between us, fingers finding where I'm already slick with want. I gasp against his mouth when he touches me, my hips arching instinctively.
"God, Riley," he groans, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure. "You're so wet for me already."
His words send another rush of heat through me. I've never been one for dirty talk, but coming from Cooper, it makes me dizzy with desire. When he slides one finger inside me, then another, I moan his name, clutching at his shoulders.
"That's it," he encourages, his thumb still working magic against my clit. "Let me hear you."
