Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She drops her hand to place it on her cocked hip.

My eyes slide up the supple flesh of her neck, over her full pink lips, and stop at her glare.

“Ah, there he is.” She flashes a smile. “You finished?”

“Mouse, sweetheart, I haven’t even started.” I run my teeth along my lower lip, trying to ease the burn of wanting to be all over her.

She turns from the mirror toward me, her face stone. But her chest is rising and falling faster than it was when I walked in. Keeping my focus on her eyes, which is nearly impossible given her half-naked state, I prowl forward. Her breath quickens, so much so that her shoulders are moving along with her chest.

I move in close without touching. Her lips are parted, and her breath is coming in pants, sucking me in along with the air in the room. A light sheen of sweat on her skin intensifies her vanilla scent and sends my body into a raging state of arousal. If she so much as swayed toward me, she’d feel it. Fuck, I wish she would.

“Your workout? You haven’t started…” She tilts her chin up high to keep eye contact with me, and she stutters in her attempt to clarify my words.

Staying away from her was a mistake. Hanging out with her was like subjecting myself to poison little by little in order to build up an immunity. Instead of helping me, my avoiding her only made me more susceptible.

She’s irresistible in a way I’ve never felt before. Her draw is so intense that I notice every detail—every freckle, the delicate curve of her jawline, and the way her pulse thumps beneath the tender skin of her neck. My stomach clenches, and pressure builds between my legs.

“Blake?” Her voice hitches. The lust burning between us so palpable it’s scenting the air.

“Fuck.” I lick my lips. “I need to taste you.” Sliding my hand behind her neck, I sift my fingers into her hair below her loose ponytail.

The weight of her head falls into my hand as she gives herself over to me. With a pounding behind my ribs, I lean down while pulling her up. “One taste.” The desperate pleading in my voice sounds foreign in my ears.

I grip her hair. Her eyes flutter open, the brown so deep it’s hard to tell the difference between the iris and the pupil.

“Ask for it,” I demand and fight getting lost, drowning completely, in her lustful stare.

Her thick, dark lashes flutter as if they’re trying to stay open. “Ask?”

“Won’t do it without your permission, sweetheart.”

Something heavy flares in her eyes before she pushes it away. “Please.” Her plea is voiced on a whimper.

A jolt races up my spine. She’s begging, but I need to hear the words. “Please what, Mouse?”

“Kiss me.”

With fuckin’ pleasure.

I reach down and cup her ass, and a gasp of surprise seeps from her lips. Her palms lay flat against my chest, her fingers finding purchase in my shirt. Pulling her close, I slide my thigh between her legs. I flex my hips into the heat of her body. So fucking hot.

Taking her mouth in a slow caress, her soft lips ignite my craving. With a gentle pull from my grip on her hair, she tilts her head, allowing my control of the kiss. As much as I want to take over her mouth, to dominate her, I force myself to stay in control. I run my tongue along the seam of her mouth, a silent but unmistakable request. A moan rolls up from her throat and her lips part.

Here’s my taste. And what a fucking unbelievable taste it is.

Her wet mouth combined with the sweetness on her tongue explodes in my gut. I dig my fingers into her ass, pressing her down against my thigh. I know I’m pushing it, but it’s impossible to hold myself back. And fuck me, she grinds into me with her eager little body, rubbing her breasts against my chest and her inner thighs against mine. I suck her tongue deep, trying to consume all the sweet from her wet flesh like the starving man that I’ve been.

It’s not enough. I want more.

Our mouths move together, synchronized in perfect rhythm. Overcome, I nip at her lip, pulling with my teeth then soothing the ache with my tongue. Her hands slide down to dip beneath my shirt. She pushes her hands up, the soft skin of her palms skating along my abs to my chest, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. Skin to skin, no barrier between us, she must feel my heart hammering.

My body roars to take her. To bury in deep and lose myself forever. But I promised her one taste. As much as I’d love to spend the next few days ravishing her body, showing her what it’s capable of feeling, I won’t take advantage.

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