Page 46 of Forbidden Game

“Parker.”

My name slips from her lips ever so quietly, and I hear the reluctance in the tone. The worry. The fear. I see her trying to take a step away from the tree, away from the fruit that calls her name.

I can’t.

I can’t let her go.

“Fuck it.”

I close the distance between us, and Sydney sucks in a breath just as my lips crash into hers.

She tastes exactly as I remember. Like cherries and pure fucking sunshine. I drink it all in, savoring every second like a man finding a stream in the middle of a forest fire.

I’m an astronaut who has been stranded, floating in space, and I’ve just been brought back down to Earth. Gravity hits me all at once, pulling me toward her. I feel at peace, grounded. I don’t stop kissing her, I don’t chance it.

My free hand comes around the back of her neck, and I tilt her up to me, deepening the kiss. I stifle the groan building in my throat as I continue to taste every inch of her marshmallow-soft lips.

Now that I’ve started, I don’t know if I can stop. Every thought in my mind disappears as I single-mindedly focus on the way she feels pressed against me.

She pulls back slightly and murmurs my name against my mouth.

“Parker, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” I cut her off. “For five minutes, just don’t think.” I nip her top lip, and her eyes flutter shut.

“Five minutes.”

Sydney’s hesitant lips push back against my own, and I refrain from pulling her on top of me. From hauling her sweet body onto my hips so I can feel every inch of her on me.

She said five minutes, and I’m not going to do anything to lose even a single second by doing something that could throw her off.

I’m not a patient man, but I’ve waited five years for these five minutes.

Because Sydney will always be the exception. I’ll move like molasses for her, so long as she keeps teasing those sinful lips against mine.

Her tongue teases against my mouth, and I open to her instantly, letting her in. It’s a perfect dance, and my blood roars to attention when a low hum slips out of her.

My briefs do nothing to stop my straining cock, thick with want for the beauty before me. I reach down and give it a rough stroke through the fabric.

God, I need her. I need her so fucking bad.

I groan against her lips, intoxicated by her, fading into the oblivion that is Sydney Lake.

Her hand comes around my shoulder, and I shudder at the feeling of her fingers on my bare skin. My body heats wherever she touches as though it is imprinting the feel of her down to my very soul. Her nails dig into my biceps, and the slight tug is the only signal, the only invitation, I need.

I swing my leg around her, caging her between the bed and my body.

I’m careful not to crush her, using my knees and elbows to hover above her, because I know the second I come down on her, she will feel exactly how much I want her—and I’m not sure if that is going to freak her out or not. But then her soft legs hook behind my own, her ankles cross beneath my ass, and she pulls.

Every sane thought flees from my mind as my body connects with hers. She’s wearing that silk night set again, but my bare chest can feel the hardened peaks of her breasts pressing against the fabric.

My hips buck ever so slightly, my heavy length jerking against her heat, and I feel her sharp inhale in response. I lean into her with a bruising kiss, taking as much of her as she will give.

There is no end, there’s just the continuous whirlpool of our lips as we meet in crashing waves.

“I think our five minutes are up,” she mutters between kisses.

“Are they? I’m not very good at being punctual.”

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