Page 53 of Bona Fide

Our mouths open at the same time, tongues immediately tangling together, and my arms wrap around his neck.

It feels like home—comfortable and placid.

A soft groan comes from Wade, and I swallow it, intertwining my fingers through his hair as one of his fingers skim the lace above my clit. His large hand is underneath my cotton shorts, tempting me to take this one step further. Reminding me that it’s him that I want at night and how I reminisce on the times we had when he owned me.

“Can I make you come?” he murmurs through one of our kisses.

Fuck.

I can feel my eyes practically fall to the back of my head.

Each soft brush of his skin against mine sledgehammering away my defenses. He’s taunting, challenging, wanting to break into my stubbornness of keeping him away from me—he’s winning.

When I feel the hem of the material that bars him off from touching me completely pull up from my skin, my heart kicks up a gear.

“Tell me ‘no’,” he presses. “And I won’t.”

“Wade,” I plead and half-ass warn—more to myself.

I won’t survive another uppercut from you and your life.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “Tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

Fucker, I can’t.

I do want him, I want us. I want him at my house with carryout and finger-fucking sessions in his office. I love getting lost in his blue eyes and how he makes me feel like I’m the only thing he can see.

I hate knowing that I crave that.

It’s obvious, however, it still changes nothing. It doesn’t mutate our lives into something different.

I’m still me.

He’s still the governor.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Reagan, but I am.”

My heart swells at his words while tears burn the back of my eyes. My response chokes me, it won’t release from the hold my brain is putting on it.

This changes nothing.

My pride locks up, refusing the words I’m sure he wants to know the most.

His thumb abrades my wet clit, provoking my head to fall back on its own. He takes advantage of my vulnerability, lapping his tongue up my throat, and nudges over to the column of my neck.

I tilt my head to the side to give him easy access as his soft lips mold and press into the sensitive part of my body.

Well, one of them.

The other he’s working me into a damn frenzy.

“What does this tell me?” he asks, giving a quick suck to my flesh. “Your body alludes more than your mind ever will to me. I think it loves me too.”

His slow, lucid movements are killing me, but I need more. I require a greater extent of him to satisfy me.

“Thinking and knowing are two different things, Governor.”

“I’m just waiting for you to say the words,” he challenges my rationality. “Tell me you don’t love me. That you don’t want me anymore.” His massaging of my clit halts, sending my body screaming for him to continue.

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