Page 47 of Burn With Me

His lips are almost on mine as his fingers skate beneath my dress and ever so lightly over my core. “Tell me you want this,” he says quietly.

Leaning my head back, I gently press my mouth to his as my hands wrap into his hair. When our lips part, we look at each other as everything melts away, and suddenly, he’s all I can see.

In a burst, our mouths collide. I’m pulling him closer as his hands grip my ass and drag me onto his body. Fingers dig into scalp and skin, as lips part and tongues tangle. I’ve never felt so alive kissing before.

Jackson kisses me as though he’s trying to devour every part of my soul. Deeply. With purpose.

My legs squeeze his waist, trying to create the friction I desperately need between my thighs. He walks us to the living room, lips never parting, and turns to sit on the couch with me straddling his lap.

Once he’s sat, his hands leave my thighs—one traveling up to fist in my hair while the other journeys between my legs to rub at my clit, with more intention than before.

My hips roll into his fingers, searching for more, as I pull my lips from his and move to kiss a trail down his neck. Firmly, but with care, he pulls me back by my hair to look me in the eyes. The little bit of pain that shoots from my scalp down my spine causes me to grow even more wet, and with the way his fingers are moving against me, there is no way he hasn’t noticed.

“You didn’t answer me. Before this goes any further, you have to tell me you want this,” he tells me.

There’s something in his voice, a frantic need that matches my own want. My hips chase his fingers as he pulls them away from my underwear, a whimper escaping my lips.

“Let me be very clear, Ginny. All you have to do is give me the green light, and I will take you upstairs and fuck you the way no man before me ever has, and no man after me ever will.”

It’s meant to be so promising—a turn-on.

No man after me ever will.

As much as I want him, his words convey that this is still just a game to him—something to win.

Something to walk away fromoncehe’s won.

Fury flashes through me, but I’m beginning to learn how to play this game by his rules.

A smirk lifts the corner of my lips, and suddenly, he doesn’t look so sure that he’s about to have me. Lifting onto my knees, I let go of him, pulling my dress down and backing off him.

“I think I’m good.” Swiping my thumb across my lower lip, I walk around the couch, ignoring his incredulous stare.

“You think you’re good? What doesthatmean?” he calls after me.

Turning, I can see that he’s standing, his erection pointed straight at me. Giving him a shrug, I grab my purse from the counter and start toward the elevator. “Have a good night,catsanova.”

“Ginny! Wait!Whereare you going?”

Throwing him a wink, the elevator doors shut on the image of him staring across the room at me as though I’ve lost my damn mind.

To me, though, it feels like I’ve just won my first game.

Eat your heart out, Jackson Tailor.

Jackson

Big blue eyes glazed over with lust.

Her nails scrape against my scalp as her tongue tangles with mine.

The weight of her on top of me as her hips chase my fingers.

My fingers, drenched, even through her underwear.

“That creepy guy from the Tisch event is here to see you. Christopher Calloway? Should I let him up?” Stacey’s voice interrupts my daydreams of the other day, drifting through the open door from her desk just outside my office.

What the fuck is that asshole doing here?

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