Page 57 of Beyond the Bright Lights

I close the door, my back against the warm wood. Mylan approaches, slow and predatory, until we’re sharing the same electrified air. He leans down, his mouth inches from mine.

“You sang that song to me?” I breathe.

“I did.”

“Do you need me tonight?”

“Desperately.”

“Then I’m yours.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his breathing shuddering against my skin.

“I was sure the first time you touched me.”

The corner of his lip quirks up. “Liar.”

I take the fabric of the black t-shirt he’s wearing and fist it, tugging his body closer to me.

“Don’t make me give you your strike back.”

His face drops from amused to serious. “You took it away?”

“I did. After cleaning out Gram and Pa’s garage.”

Before I can say another word, he crushes his mouth over mine. His lips are soft, plump, delicious. He moves them rough and demanding. He can’t get enough. Neither can I, so I part my lips, letting his tongue slip in. It clashes with my own in a battle I never want to end.

But it does end as I’m easing my hands underneath Mylan’s shirt, prepared to take it off. He pulls back. I whine and grip the nape of his neck, trying to bring that talented mouth back to me.

“So greedy, Lana,” Mylan growls and rests his forehead on mine. “Let me make one thing clear. This is going to happen, but we’re not going to rush it, okay?”

Wait. Is he trying to back out of having sex?

“Because if we go fast, I won’t be able to worship your body the way it deserves.”

Oh.

“My lips and hands will cherish every curve, every dimple, every beautiful mark. I want to taste every inch of your skin.”

He grinds his hips into my stomach, his hard dick straining in his jeans.

“Do you feel what you do to me?”

I nod and he kisses me, rougher this time. His teeth scrape on my lips then he bites down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but damn, does it make me moan. He tugs my lip before letting go, moving his love bites along my chin and down to my neck, where he nips harder this time. He sucks on the skin, making sure to leave his mark on me again.

Almost as if saying mine.

Then he steps back, the rush of air between us cruel yet a relief at the same time. Mylan takes my hand and drags us away from the door.

“Something you should know about me, Lana.”

I lift my brow, intrigued.

“I’m not very good at control. Drugs, alcohol, my life . . . I lose control a lot. But sex? When I have control in the bedroom, my addiction is no longer in charge.”

We've reached my bed, and he positions me at the side, his hands on my shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love when you boss me around, but tonight, you’re going to listen to what I say.” He slides his hand off my shoulder to palm my neck, tipping my chin up with his thumb. His favorite thing to do. My favorite thing he does. “You’re going to do what I say. Understand?”

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