Page 11 of Stuffing My Obsession
Her hands roam over me, desperate, clutching my shirt, sliding across my chest like she needs to feel all of me at once. The little sounds she makes—the whimpers, the shaky breaths—ignite me more than anything I’ve ever heard.
I slide my palm under the thin cotton of her shirt, dragging it up slowly, savoring the feel of her silky soft skin. She arches into me, eager, her body begging for more even as her lips stay fused to mine. My thumb grazes the underside of her breast, and she gasps into my mouth, pressing closer.
Christ. She’s driving me insane.
I slide my hand higher, finally cupping her breast, brushing my thumb over the hard peak of her nipple. She shudders, lips breaking from mine just long enough to whisper my name. Breathless. Needy.
“Myles…”
The sound wrecks me. I squeeze gently, rolling her nipple between my fingers, swallowing her moan with another brutal kiss. My other hand grips her thigh, dragging it over mine, pulling her body flush against the evidence of just how much I want her.
She melts into me, grinding against the hard line of my cock like instinct, her hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging into me.
I’ve dreamed of this—of her—every night since I first saw her. But nothing compares to the way she feels now. Soft. Hungry. Mine.
And I’m seconds away from losing control completely, but I can feel the weariness in her body, the way she’s half-drunk with exhaustion and in need of a good night’s sleep. Sleep that I’ve already interrupted with my nightmares.
I tear my mouth from hers, breathing hard. I press my forehead to hers. “You need to rest,” I rasp, my voice shredded with restraint. “We still have a long drive tomorrow.”
Her chest rises and falls against me, eyes dazed, lips swollen from my kiss. She nods wordlessly, like she can’t even find her voice, and curls obediently into my side.
I wrap an arm around her, holding her close as she tucks her face against my chest. She lets out a soft sigh, already drifting off to sleep.
I lie there, every nerve on fire, my cock aching, my body demanding I take more. But I don’t. I can’t. Not yet.
It’s going to be a fucking long night.
Chapter Five
Paris
I open my eyes slowly. It takes a while for me to make sense of where I am, the scratchy motel blankets and the heavy weight of Myles’s arm around my waist. Suddenly, the memories of last night come rushing in…the feeling of his mouth on mine, his hands on my body, my breast…
I let out a soundless gasp, my face burning at the images that flood my head.
What have I done? I barely know the man for Christ’s sake.
I stay rigidly still, trying to determine whether or not he’s still asleep. His breath is even, his right leg draped loosely across my body—surely I can slip away without waking him up.Right?
Carefully, I turn my head, and I almost immediately forget how to breathe.
He’s awake. Staring right at me.
Those eyes. That unblinking, razor-sharp focus. It’s too much. He looks at me like he owns me already, like I’m something he’s been waiting to claim. My pulse trips over itself, and I have to look away before I combust right there in his arms.
“Morning,” he says, voice deep and rough from sleep.
God. Even his morning voice is unfair.
“M-morning,” I stammer, my voice embarrassingly small.
His lips twitch. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not,” I blurt, which of course makes my cheeks flame hotter. Perfect. Just perfect.
“You are,” he says, and there’s something almost amused in his tone. Then he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking about last night?”
I freeze. My heart thunders in my chest, and I can’t lie. Not when the answer is written all over my face. “Maybe.”
