Page 32 of No Strings Attached
“Pleasure,” I finish for her.
I take slow steps toward her. Amira doesn’t move at first but, as I close the distance, she instinctively backs up until her shoulders brush the door and it clicks closed.
Her chin lifts, but her breathing shifts.
“See,” I murmur, placing one hand on the door beside her head, then the other, caging her in. “I think you’ve got it backward.”
She swallows hard though still holds my gaze.
“This isn’t a problem.” I drop my voice to a low drawl. “It’s an opportunity.”
Her lips part, like she’s about to argue, but I lean in, her breath catching as mine brushes against her cheek.
I bring my mouth to her ear. “I want to taste you again, Mira.”
Even though she hasn’t said a word, I can see the way she’s unraveling.
Amira’s trying so damn hard to hold herself together, and it only makes me want to pull her closer.
I lean in again. “You remember how you sounded last night? The way you whispered my name as if you craved it more than air?”
Her hands tighten at her sides, and I know she feels every word.
“You clung to me like you couldn’t get close enough,” I whisper, letting the words drip. Amira exhales shakily, her lashes fluttering as she turns her face slightly away. I press closer. “The way you begged for more?” My lips graze the shell of her ear. “Do you remember? Because I do, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
Goosebumps spread down her neck.
She’s in shambles, and still trying to pretend she’s not.
I lower my voice even more, just a breath now. “You want it again. You wantmeagain. And that scares the hell out of you.”
My hand slides from the door to her jaw, tilting her face toward mine, and I kiss her deeply and hard, with all the frustration and hunger I’ve been trying to bite back since the moment she walked into this house.
Amira gasps against my mouth, but instead of pulling away, she grabs fistfuls of my shirt and tugs me closer. I press her into the door, our bodies flush against each other, and her lips open under mine like she’s just as desperate as I am.
I groan into her mouth, my hand sliding into her hair as we kiss harder.
Whatever this is between us… it’s not over.
12
FACE DOWN, ASS UP
AMIRA
My back presses against the door, and every nerve in my body lights up, sparking under Henson’s touch, his mouth, the low rumble of his voice still echoing in my ear.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. His expression is raw, pleading, hungry. “Then tell me to stop.” Just like he did yesterday, he’s giving me a way out. “Tell me now, because I won’t be able to do it myself.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I know this is dangerous and reckless. I shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t wanthim, but I don’t say a thing.
Instead, I lean in and kiss him.
His hands move with urgency, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my sweater, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until I gasp into his mouth. He kisses me hard, then trails his lips down my neck.
When he pulls my sweater down off one shoulder, exposing the curve of my collarbone, his teeth graze my skin, then nips it lightly, making my knees go weak.
