A curse seethed between his clenched lips as she surrounded him, hugging him like a silken glove. He looked down at her, spine arched, upturned breasts flushed pink with desire. She was so pretty it actually hurt to look at her. Her lips were puffy and bruised from his mouth and her eyes looked so wide and guileless and slightly stunned as he worked in and out of her. He was corrupting her. He knew it, and while he hated himself, while he couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t stop either. Her sex pulsed and flexed around him, pulling him in impossibly deeper.
Digging his hands into her hips, he slid out from her and flipped her over on the table, lowering her legs to the ground. He spread her feet apart so that she was standing on the tile floor, bent waist down for him. As tall as she was, the angle was perfect—and so was the view of the sweet swells of her ass.
He stroked her, finding her slick heat, so wet and swollen for him. Her clit was distended and so sensitive she cried out when he gave it the barest graze.
“Too. Much,” she gasped, squirming away.
“You can take it, Faith,” he rasped, wrapping an arm around her waist. He bore down on the little nub, rubbing it in a fast little circle.
A shuddering sob racked her body, followed in quick succession by another one. She cried out, pressing her palms against the table and pushing back against him. “North!” she pleaded.
He answered her by plunging back into her tight pussy. A deep growl spilled out of him. He stroked a hand down her spine while still working his other one between her legs.
For each of his thrusts she pushed back, meeting him with similar force until they were both crying out, both shuddering. She exploded first, shrieking and grinding against him, her sex milking him, squeezing him like a vise as she hit her climax.
He followed fast behind with his own release, shouting like he never did. Like the man he wasn’t. A man who wasn’t burdened.
He draped over her for a lingering moment, his forehead resting against her back as his breath crashed out of him. She was bewildering like that, making him forget who he really was in a moment of passion. A dangerous thing. He could never forget.
He pulled out from her body and moved into the kitchen, forcefully tossing the condom in the trash. When he turned around she was already on her feet. Hands shaking, she dressed herself. He leaned one hip against the table, cautioning himself not to touch her again when that was exactly what his body cried out to do. He swallowed back a sound of self-disgust. Needing to do something with his hands, he picked up a brownie and took a giant bite, schooling his expression into something impassive.
“Are you going to get dressed?” she asked with a nervous little laugh. Only a good girl like her could feel awkward after what they had just done. Especially considering it wasn’t even their first time.
He shrugged, not even glancing down at himself. “I’m comfortable.”
“That was . . . amazing.” Her smile turned shy and definitely nervous. “Different.”
Unease trickled through him. This was starting to feel too intimate, too much like what other well-adjusted couples did after they fucked.
“Of course it was.” Of course she would be one of those that wanted to talk afterward and examine everything. This was insanity and he was a fool.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, evidently picking up something in his tone and words. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re you, Faith Walters. What we did was . . .” His voice faded and he dragged his hand through his hair with a pained sigh. “Tell me this. Why do you let me touch you? And kiss you? Why did you just let me have sex with you like that?” He gestured to the table. It hadn’t been kinky necessarily, but it had been fast and hard and short on foreplay.
“What?” she demanded. “Having regrets now because I’m a good girl?” She air quoted that last bit, her face flushed with emotion. “Afraid I’m going to want to pick out china patterns now? Grow up, North. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Maybe you should do the growing up. I mean, what the hell are you doing here with me, Faith?”
It was an excellent question.
Searching his face, Faith was glad to finally have this out between them. It was time to talk about what they were doing with each other. Because she was beyond the point of pretending any of this was nothing. She’d just had the most amazing sex of her life with him—again—and now he was being a jackass.
He motioned wildly between them. “Why have you been letting this go on between us?”
“I don’t know, but I’m starting to wonder.” She propped a hand on her hip. “And this what, North? What is it that we’re doing?” She stared hard at him, waiting for him to say that it was more than sex. Because, God help her, it felt like more to her.
He laughed once, a harsh bark. “You need a definition?”
“I do!”
“It’s called fucking but I have no idea why you’ve been doing it with me.” His brown eyes glittered to black. “Do you have some stupid felon fetish? Is that what this is?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you trying to be an asshole on purpose?”
He kept right on talking. Like he hadn’t heard her. Or he had and didn’t care what she thought about him. “Your brother is right. You shouldn’t be living next door to me. You should not—”