The pounding of my heart probably could have been heard from across the room. And the closer I got, the more I could feel the heat of his fire searing my skin.
You know how this will end. There won’t even be enough of you left to identify the body.
Another step.
It could be strictly physical. That’s probably all he wants anyway. Where’s the harm in casual sex? Shannon, you dumbass. That is the harm in casual sex.
Another step.
He must have felt me. “Jesus Christ, what now?” he snapped, turning to face me.
I was only inches away.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Evan,” I prompted. “Say it.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to catch pneumonia if you go from hot to cold one more time.”
But what Henry couldn’t possibly know was that there was nothing cold about me when it came to him. No matter how hard I tried to fake it.
My head was still a jumbled mess, but my body had finally won the tug-of-war.
Closing the last step of distance between us, I loomed over him. “Repeat the question, and use my name this time.”
His head tipped back to maintain eye contact, and a new confidence transformed his voice. “What are you doing, Evan?”
“I have no fucking idea. Probably making some really bad career decisions.”
A smile split his mouth as he swayed toward me, bringing his chest to mine. “Your job”—he brushed his nose against mine—“is safe. Stop talking about it and tell me how long I have until the ice storm hits again.”
My lips twitched. “At least until the sun comes up.”
“Then we better get busy.” He winked.
Nerves surged in my stomach, but I dipped my chin in a nod.
He immediately found the hem of my shirt and peeled it over my head, groaning as he visually fondled my every muscle. “Christ. Your fucking body.”
“Evan,” I reminded.
He smirked, sweeping his lips across mine before breathing, “Evan.”
That was all it took. I crushed my mouth to his. And, this time, I knew I wouldn’t be stopping.
Tangling my fingers in the back of his hair, I gave it a tug to tip his head back. “What are you doing to me?” I asked, moving my assault to his neck, nipping and biting as I trailed down to his shoulder.
He took a step forward, backing me toward the couch. “Everything. Repeatedly.”
I gave his hair a pointed yank and gripped his jaw so he had no choice but to look me in the eyes. “I’m serious.”
He pressed against my chest, backing me toward the couch. “So am I. Now, sit.”
Unmoving, I glared my reminder.
“Oh, right. Evan.”
I collapsed onto the couch, watching intently as his hand slowly made it down to the tent at the front of his towel. He rubbed his hidden length, and I felt it as though it were my own.
“I should warn you, Evan. My balls might be purple after the torture you’ve put me through tonight.”
The corner of my mouth twitched.
He licked his lips in response. “I fucking love when your lips do that, but it’s only making things…harder.” With one flick of his wrist, his towel was gone. His heavy erection bobbed before he caught the shaft and gave it a quick tug.
My body thrummed and my mouth watered to taste him, but that was one rule I wasn’t okay with breaking. At least, not yet.
He jutted his chin toward the raging hard-on battling for a way out of my pants. “Your turn.”
My gaze lifted from his hand slowly sliding up his steely rod and caught the victorious glint dancing in his eyes. I was in way over my head. I could feel it in my bones. My need and desire for him made me completely out of control.
“Casual sex. Nothing more,” I said, doing my best to ignore his arm pumping in my peripheral vision.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Works for me.”
Shit. Why does that hurt? Yet another thing I didn’t understand.
I was going to need more protection—more rules.
“You don’t fuck me.” I moved my hands down to hover over my button, waiting for his confirmation.
He frowned. “Not even in the mouth?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “Are your rules done? Can you please just get naked and be easy for once.”
My lips twitched in response to his eagerness. Suddenly, I was in the mood to be easy too.
Pushing to my feet, I crowded his space. And then I uttered the four words I hadn’t said to a man in almost a decade.
“Get on your knees.”
I REALLY WAS a whore, because my knees hit the floor before the final syllable had cleared his lips. Just as quickly, my hands were at his zipper, and then I was pushing his pants down his thighs until his all-but-concrete dick popped free.
He hadn’t even stepped out of his jeans before I wrapped my mouth around the head.
“Fuck,” he groaned, threading his fingers into the top of my hair.