Page 66 of The Perfect Mistake

He kisses my inner thigh again, and I grip his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me. He stands, but it isn’t to kiss me. No, he helps me off the counter and runs his palms down my arms.

My heart is still beating at lightspeed. It’s not fair that he’s fully dressed. I want more. I want it so badly. And it’s so close, he’s so close. I want to feel his bare skin on me, and more of his kisses.

My hands grip the fabric of his shirt. He lets me pull him down for a kiss. One turns into two, and two into seven, until we’re making out in the bathroom. He’s hard against me, and my whole body zeroes in on that bulge, and the possibility of more.

But he doesn’t do anything more. Just keeps kissing me, his hands on my waist and ass, groaning every now and then.

“Alec,” I finally say.

He rests his forehead against mine. His skin is flushed. “Yes.”

I squirm against him. “I’m ready for more.”

“More what?”

His eyes hold a hint of amusement, and I narrow my own at him. “Don’t you want to sleep with me?” I ask.

Alec’s half-huffed chuckle is hoarse. He pulls my hand tight between our bodies, right against the hard length of his cock. Even trapped behind the fly of his slacks, it’s impressive.

“Pretty obvious what I want,” he says gravelly. “I’ve wanted you for much longer than I should’ve, and the things I’ve imagined… Isa, I need to have you. I think I might die if I don’t. But I won’t until you can tell me the same thing without blushing.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

“I want you to tell me what you like.” He leans in, his mouth by my ear. “How you want me to touch you. The way you like to be fucked. I need your words, sweetheart, and I haven’t heard them tonight.”

“That’s not fair,” I say. My voice is high with shock.

He chuckles and slides a finger down my cheek. “Maybe not. But I’m not fair, and I’ve never claimed to be. What I am, is thorough.”

“You’re backing out again.”

His hand around my wrist tightens, pulling my palm flat against his erection, like it’s proof. “No,” he says. “I’m giving you a task. Next time, I want you to show me how you like to be touched.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

He tugs my hand up, dragging it over his chest before he lays it flat against his neck. There’s a wicked smile dancing at the corner of his lips. “You’ve said that twice already. We’re not doing this until you can talk to me about sex.”

“I can talk about sex.”

“Can you?” He lowers his head, his lips brushing over mine. “What positions do you like? What makes you come the hardest?”

I stare at his eyes, so close they’re almost blurry, and my mind blanks. Positions. With him. It sends a shiver down my back, and an answer leaps to my tongue, but it’s a mortifying one. I don’t usually come during sex. It’s before, or maybe after, and sometimes during. Rarely.

He kisses me. It derails my thinking further, and I wrap my arms around his neck. But he lifts his head far too soon.

I hate that he’s right.

He releases me and I sway lightly on my feet. Alec pulls up my jeans, and there’s gentleness in his hands that’s at odds with the tense lines on his face. Through the fabric of his pants, I can still make him out. He looks huge and straining.

“What about you?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “What about me…?”

There’s a clear taunt in the question. Like he knows I won’t use the words, won’t rephrase the question. Won’t be able to go there.

I meet his gaze with my own and ignore the nerves swirling in my stomach. “What about your orgasm?”

He runs a hand along his jaw, and his gaze narrows. “I’ll do what I’ve been doing every night since you moved in.”

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