Page 148 of Facing Off
“Fuck, Sonya,” Adrian growls, moving his mouth down to suck on my neck. “You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this.”
Me, too.
I’ve imagined it so many damn times. Sometimes without wanting to, but more recently purposefully thinking about it as if I can’t picture it enough.
Us naked in bed, him pulling my knees apart and pushing the swollen head of his cock against the entrance of my pussy. Holding me as his hips start to move and work his thickness deeper, stretching me open until I’m moaning or cursing his name. I don’t know which one, but it doesn’t matter as long as he doesn’t stop.
My head falls back as he cups the curve of my breast and squeezes. We’re fumbling—no, scratch that. I’m fumbling and writhing against him while Adrian carries me deeper into my apartment. He’s somehow capable of locating my pushed away couch. Before he can lower me onto it, I dig my fingernails into his shoulders.
“Bed.”
His reaction is everything.
His breath catches in his throat, then rushes out in a broken exhale.
“Where’s your bed, baby?” he asks, voice rough andeyes bright even in this darkness, like wild ocean waves crashing together at night.
It’s a Murphy bed. It needs to be pulled down from the wall. One of us needs to step away and do that, and it should be me, but I’m already working the buttons on his shirt. As if I can’t make up my mind about what happens next. As if I’m losing my senses.
“Off,” I demand. “I want to see you.”
A tremor runs through him. Adrian walks us a few steps, crossing my studio easily before placing me up on my kitchen counter. Set down where I won’t move an inch. Like he needs to control where I am and where my hands can reach if he’s going to survive this.
“My ballerina is bossy,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Oh no, guess I have no choice but to listen to her and get naked.”
I roll my eyes at him because we both know that’s not a hardship for him.
His grin flashes at me in the dark. Without losing it, he begins to strip.
AndGod.
Clumsily, I reach behind me and flick on the little light above the stove. It’s barely enough to push back the shadows, but I see enough and understand why Adrian is so smug. The things any woman would want to do to him as soon as he takes his clothes off…
My mouth waters as a possessive feeling ricochets through me. No, I don’t like the thought ofanywoman. My skin prickles.He’s mine.
Standing left only wearing slutty red trunks, Adrian watches me and his smile falters—just a flicker—and he’s serious, his eyes locked on mine. “Sonya. The look on your face, I can’t—” The tendons on his neck are standing out. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he rasps. “I just…I need you to know that.”
My heart stutters.
He comes closer.
I think we’re about to ravish each other, but his forehead touches mine.
“I have to be good,” he says quietly. “Better than good. I want to make it perfect for you. And—” He breaks off, exhaling a shaky laugh. “I think I’m suddenly afraid of disappointing you…”
He’s nervous?
But he’s done this a hundred times. Probably more.
And yet, he’s stepping back and standing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There’s an embarrassed curve to his mouth, and the tops of his cheeks stain pink.
I’ve seen him cocky. I’ve seen him loud, grinning, arrogant. We’ve already kissed before. Touched. He’s gone down on his knees more than once for me.
But I’ve never seen him this worried about messing up. Not because he doesn’t know what to do, but because itmattersso much. Because if this was just sex, we’d already be halfway there.
But this isn’t that.
Not with him.
