Page 191 of Holding On To Good

“That’s it,” he murmured, his soft, appreciative tone at odds with the way he punished her mouth. With how he cupped her throat, forcing her chin up. “That’s it…”

He stared down at her, lips parted slightly, eyes at half-mast. She could tell he was close. His body tense and shaking. She did her best to relax her throat. To take him deeper. Curled her tongue so that it wrapped around his cock with each stroke. Tried to focus on him. On making it good for him. Giving him whatever he needed.

Letting him take however much he wanted.

But he was still holding back. Was still up on that tightrope, fighting for balance. Struggling to remain on that narrow strip, the only solid ground beneath his feet.

Fighting to hold on to any small piece of control.

Until she widened her legs and pressed her hips forward, straddling his muscular thigh, seeking her own relief.

Her wetness proving to him how much she liked this.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Shit… Willow, I’m going to…”

He let go of her hands and tried to step back, but she grabbed his hips. Dug her nails into the top curve of his ass.

And held him to her.

He came with a roar, his head thrown back, the lines of his neck standing out in sharp relief. His release hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed greedily. She wanted it all. Wanted everything he had to give her.

He withdrew from her slowly, chest bellowing with his heavy breaths, expression stunned. The way he looked at her reverently.

Enthralled.

Like she was no longer the girl he’d been friends with forever.

No, he looked at her now like she was someone new.

Like she really was his.

Like this time, he was going to do everything in his power to keep her.

It scared the hell out of her. That look.

But what terrified her even more was what she was willing to do for him.

How much she wanted to give him.

Everything kept shifting between them. Changing and growing. She couldn’t find her footing and was torn between racing to try and keep up. Or digging in her heels to hold her ground.

Either way, she was left tumbling and tripping

It was only a matter of time before she fell.

The worst part? Worse than her doubts and fears and the unrelenting worry that she’d completely messed up with this whole fling idea, and things between them were already irrevocably changed? That there was no way their friendship, their business, would survive when it was all said and done?

She couldn’t stop it.

Couldn’t even keep pretending she had the strength to walk away from Urban.

Not yet.

Maybe tomorrow, when his taste no longer coated her tongue.

Or the day after, when her jaw didn’t ache from taking him in her mouth so long. So hard.

Or next week, when her scalp didn’t tingle from his tight grip. When the ache in her throat faded, where his thumb had pressed, not so gentle. So very insistent. When she wasn’t aching and wet and needy.

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