“Tell me,” she whispered.
He sucked his upper lip into his mouth. “I haven’t been in the same room as you, Erin, when my cock wasn’t rock hard and ready to fuck. You know it, too. You know I want to plant it deep inside you. Watch you shift around trying to get used to being crammed so motherfucking tight.” His pupils were dilated, chest rising and falling unevenly. Breathtaking man. Burn for me. “I’m hard right now just thinking about what you’re hiding under those shorts. I want to lick all of it. I want to bite and fuck it. If you think I can survive this way all day, all night, you have overestimated me.”
Erin’s mind reeled. With excitement. Apprehension. Most overwhelmingly, pain that she couldn’t give him what he needed. She wanted to be the girl who could. Desperately. But she couldn’t. She’d experimented with touch before. How much she could take, how much she could give out. Giving had never been a problem for her. That, she could control. The tricky part was finding someone she could trust not to get lost in the moment and forget the ground rules. In the past, she’d sought partners who liked to take a passive role in bed, reasoning they would be less likely to touch, which proved correct. But she’d been unsatisfied. One part of her sang at the thought of being consumed, but it was overshadowed by the part of her that was terrified of it.
The second she’d met Connor, she’d sensed what he had churning inside him. He’d just confirmed her theory with his words. If she were capable of giving herself over to him, of exploring their mutual attraction without reservation, she’d be flat on her back immediately. Pinned. Unable to move. A thought struck her. Was she so drawn to him because he was the perfect mixture of what she needed? A man capable of satisfying her physically, but who had enough self-discipline to stop if things got too overwhelming for her?
It was selfish of her to ask to stay. Usually she wouldn’t bat an eyelash at her narcissistic behavior. It suited her not to give a shit how her actions affected others. But Connor inspired something…give-a-shittish inside her. In the conference room, he’d stopped touching her immediately when she asked. Last night, he’d let her take from him what she needed. This morning, he’d carved out daylight for her in that stifling basement. Much as she hated being in someone’s debt, she owed him. She should get her suitcase and find somewhere else to stay. Put them both out of their misery and only deal with this startling gravitational pull at work.
“Say something,” he demanded.
“I’ll go.”
His brows drew together. “Are you testing me?”
Erin hopped off the counter, feeling a kick in her chest when he automatically stepped back to give her space. So they wouldn’t touch. Yeah, this was the right thing to do. “No, I’m not testing you. This time. But I wouldn’t get used to such generosity.”
He paced the kitchen, but came to a halt when she started lacing up her sneakers. “What—you’re leaving now?”
“Uh, yeah. I only have a few hours before it gets dark. Doesn’t give me much time.”
“No.” Connor gripped the kitchen counter and leaned over it. “No. Just no.”
What was wrong with him? He told her he couldn’t handle her living in the same apartment, now she was doing the right thing and he looked like she’d informed him a flaming meteor was headed toward Earth. She walked toward her suitcase where she’d left it propped near the window and looped her fingers around the handle. That simple act of finality pierced her armor and she suddenly hated herself for being such a goddamn mess. “Look, I’ll meet you at the prison tomor—”
“Put down the suitcase.”
Erin spun around with a gasp to find Connor standing two feet away. “Jesus H. Christ. Warn a sister.”
His gaze was concentrated on her hand. “Why haven’t you put down the suitcase?”
“Do you suffer from short-term memory loss? I’m out, baby. Hitting the bricks.”
Slowly, his hands came up, palms out. Surrender. He closed the distance between them. One step, two. What the hell was he doing? The concentration etched into his handsome face started a hot burn deep in the pit of her stomach.
She wanted to run.
She couldn’t move.
“We kissed last night.” His attention focused in on her mouth. “Can we do it again now?”
“I don’t know.” Her lips burned at the thought of it. Last night, she’d been in the moment, so consumed by her climax, she couldn’t remember if it had hurt. She wanted desperately to find out. If for no other reason than to give him something that he wanted. “Y-yes.”