Page 47 of Defeated

And just like that, tears are prickling my eyes, and it’s a battle not to cry. One I come so close to losing.

I sniff. “You said you didn’t want to give me a big head.”

“That’s not a positive. That is truth. If it gives you a big head, so be it.”

I press down on his back, and he lowers his lips to mine.

As I slip my fingers under his shirt to explore cool skin, hard muscle, and lean strength, he groans deep in his throat and grips my wrist.

He stares down at me, breathing hard, his eyes glittering with arousal. “Not a good idea.”

“Touching you?”

“I don’t know that I can be gentle if you touch me, Zoe,” he warns me.

Is it wrong to want to do it, anyway? To push and see what would happen if I did?

It’s one night, Zoe. One night to have something you both want, to touch, explore, and do things you will probably never do again.

Still eye to eye, I twist my wrist. He immediately releases me.

He doesn’t stop me again.

Slowly, unsure of what I’m doing or if I’m doing it right, I run my fingers down over his chest and his flat belly. I unbutton his jeans, and after hesitating a beat, slip my hand under the waistband.

Chris is still watching me, his breathing getting harder and louder as I take my time exploring every inch of him.

“Zoe.” There’s a desperate catch in his voice, and I know I’m more than doing this right. “You have to stop.”

He’s swelling in my hand, and I tighten my grip on him, stroking him harder.

As if I’ve pushed him as far as he could go, he fuses his mouth with mine, his kiss as desperate as the hands he strokes over my breasts, hips, and waist.

He pulls my palm from around him, and then we’re in a race to peel each other’s clothes off.

My clothes are off me in blink and miss it speed. We barely come up for air.

His kiss drives all reason from my mind and his fingers delve between my parted thighs, again and again. His touch is so perfect my hips arch up off the bed as I moan my release into his mouth.

I’m still falling when his hands frame my face.

“Zoe?” His voice is soft.

“You fried my brain,” I whisper, eyes closed, positive my wits are marbles rolling around the floor. “Give me a minute.”

He laughs, and the sound makes me blink my eyes open, wanting to see his smile.

He’s being very careful not to crush me, but I shift beneath him to get more comfortable. And as I move, his cock settles between the V of my thighs, brushing my entrance.

I freeze, eyes wide, mouth dry.

His smile slips away so fast I’m not convinced it was there at all. He swallows. Hard. Enough for me to track the motion in his bobbing Adam’s apple.

He’s right there. My thighs are open, and all he would have to do is push.

He doesn’t.

Harlan never seemed to care if it hurt me or if I cried out. Never cared at all if?—

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