Page 38 of Caught from Behind

My tee.

That she swept up and stole from the floor the night before, disappearing into the bathroom and coming out with it dwarfing her, the hem stopping at mid-thigh, leaving miles and miles of skin on display.

Now it’s rucked up around her waist, giving me a glimpse of even more bare skin, of a plump pussy that’s barely covered by a strip of colorfully patterned cotton.

Right.

Kissing her all over.

All fucking over.

Still, I force myself to start slowly, pressing my lips to her forehead, to both cheeks, to the hinge of her jaw.

More shivers, her body shifting restlessly—something that increases when I nibble at her earlobe, when I kiss the sensitive spot just behind?—

A hand lands on my back and I freeze, lifting my head.

God, she’s pretty.

But I’m not sure what the touch means.

“Want to stop?” I ask quietly, holding her gaze, staring deep into the pools of vibrant blue, searching for any bit of hesitancy.

I don’t see any.

But that’s not a surprise.

Ella’s not hesitant.

Not ever.

And, thank fuck, not now either.

Her nails bite lightly into my back. “No, but?—”

I bend down, suck at the beaded nub of her nipple that’s pressing against the fabric of my tee.

She gasps, both hands going to my hair, clutching tightly.

I let her have that, but only for a second, only because I want this shirt off her.

I break away from her breast, lift up enough to reach for the hem of my tee, yanking it up and over her head, tossing it to the side, and?—

Christ.

She’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

She reaches for me again, but I capture her hands, drawing them up to the headboard again. “Keep them there.”

“Riggs—”

I nip at her bottom lip. “Keep. Them. There.”

Her lips part, begging to be tasted again, pink growing in her cheeks, but she continues holding on to the wood, back arching, breasts on perfect display for me.

I bend, kiss that pouty mouth, and then drag my lips down her throat, the rough hitch of her breaths tickling my ear.

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