Page 18 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
"You need to leave." But even as he says it, his hand comes up to cover mine, holding it against his chest. "Right now. Before I do something we both regret."
"You keep saying that." My free hand moves to his belt, and I feel him tense. "But earlier, in that stairwell, you couldn't keep your hands off me. You couldn't stop. So tell me, Professor, are you really going to send me away? Or are you going to stop lying to both of us?"
Something in him snaps. I can see it in his eyes, the moment his control shatters.
"You want the truth? The truth is I think about you constantly. Every second of every day. You scare the fuck out of me, because for the first time in five years, I feel something. And I don't know what to do with that."
His thumb traces my bottom lip. "I can't drag you into my mess. I can't ruin your life because I'm too selfish to stay away."
"I'm already in it." I turn my head slightly, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I've been in it since Halloween night."
He closes his eyes like my words are painful. "Tessa…"
His eyes snap open, and the look in them steals my breath.
Then he's moving.
His hand fists my hair, and he yanks me against him, his mouth crashing down on mine. I moan against his lips, and he takes advantage. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about the kiss.
My hands grip his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though there's no space left between us. He walks me backward until my back hits the wall beside his desk, pinning me there with his body.
"This is a mistake," he growls against my mouth between kisses. "Such a fucking mistake."
"Then make it." I bite his bottom lip, and he groans.
Suddenly his hands are everywhere, like he’s trying to punish me for making him lose control. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other slides down my body, gripping my breast so hard I know it’ll leave bruises.
“You’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna fucking hate me, Tessa.”
“I won’t,” I gasp, arching into him.
He lets out a guttural sound and releases my wrists only to grab my thighs, lifting me. My legs wrap around his waist, the heat of his body searing through my clothes. He carries me to his desk, shoving papers and books to the floor with a reckless sweep of his arm.
He sets me on the edge of the desk, his hands tearing at my clothes with a ferocity that I’ve never seen before. The sound of tearing fabric only fuels the ache between my thighs.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he growls, yanking down my pants.
His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading them wide, and I whimper at the roughness.
“You think you want this, but you don’t know what I’m capable of, Tessa. I’m not your fucking Prince Charming. I’m not gentle. I’m not good.”
“I don’t want you to be,” I challenge.
He grabs my panties, tearing them off in one swift motion, the fabric stinging against my skin before it’s gone. He steps back, just enough to undo his belt.
“Last chance, Tessa. Tell me to stop before I ruin you.”
“I want you,” I say, reaching for him, my fingers wrapping around his length.
“You think you can handle me?” he growls, grabbing my hips and pulling me to the very edge of the desk. “You think you can take all this fucked-up shit I carry? Fine. Let’s see how much you can take.”
He doesn’t ease into it. He thrusts into me, the stretch and burn so intense I cry out, my hands gripping the edge of the desk to keep myself grounded. It’s too much, too fast, but it’s so fucking good.
“You shouldn’t let me do this to you. You shouldn’t let me fuck you like this, right here on my desk.”
“Don’t stop.”
He curses, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, the desk creaking under us as he pounds into me.
