Page 103 of The Perfect Wrong

One rough hand slides through my hair, forming a fist. He tips my head, craning my face up to him, all the better to leave me a smoldering ruin.

His other hand skims up my back, feeling for my bra clasp.

Yeah, this time he’s so not screwing around.

I’m reeling from how fast this is happening.

“Goddamn, Delia. You taste so good,” he growls, beaming his sincerity into my eyes before he pulls my bra away and flings it over his shoulder.

I’m so red I could shame a cherry tree.

He sees me pinch my thighs together, trying to hide the painful wetness seeping through my panties.

His lip curls in this animal twist of teeth.

“These are coming off. Fucking now.” Chris tears at my waistband, ripping them down to my knees, brushing my pussy with his thick fingers. “Nothing left to hide from me. Now, lie down and spread your legs so I can suck what I wanted to weeks ago.”

Sweet flaming stars.

Whimper isn’t the right word for the startled, messy sound pouring out of me.

But Chris pushes my butt down on the bed and opens my legs, jerking my panties fully off in one fluid movement and tossing them across the room.

He breathes so deeply his chest swells.

And I realize he’s inhalingme.

I’m completely bared to him before I know what’s even happening.

“Stay put,” he orders.

Calloused hands push my thighs apart and he drops to his knees, his lips working, stamping hot, aggressive kisses up until he stops at my inner thighs.

Shaking.

And I can’t stop.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to find my balance again.

The same tongue he’s teased me with a thousand times goes to work on virgin flesh.

I can’t flipping stand it.

And I’ll never live it down if I come before he’s even put his mouth on my clit.

I’m not sure I have a choice.

My fingers dig frantically at the silky sheets, grasping their softness, trying to anchor myself for the hurricane sweeping up my legs.

Chris stops for a long second to give me a wild look.

His green eyes are violent, glowing mirrors that show me undone, begging for all the ways he’s about to break me forever.

The same rough stubble that’s scratched my skin so sweetly leaves me in stitches when it brushes my thighs.

With low growls, he climbs to my center, feral in a way I never imagined, teasing and sucking tender flesh—and heading straight for the slick heat throbbing in my core.

Oh. My. God.

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