Page 59 of Bound

Only the way she says that…

“Liar,” I accuse softly. “Beautiful, beautiful liar.”

A sharp exhale. “Fine,” she says on another sigh, spinning to face me. “You want the truth? My skin’s on fire,” she adds before I can say yes, I want that, almost as much as I wanther. “I want to tear off your clothes, to feel every part of you against me, to have you pressing me into the mattress and kissing every inch of me and giving me an orgasm. I’m so wet that I feel like the barest touch from you is going to make me spontaneously combust and—” She shakes her head. “I’ve waited twenty-five years for this. I’m fucking tired of standing on the sidelines of my life, watching the years pass by too scared to go after what I want or too intent on keeping people at a distance. I want a future that’s full. I want a life that’s filled with pleasure and pain and everything in between.”

My control snaps.

I close the distance between us in an instant and scoop her up, dumping her on the bed in a rush that sends the air rushing out of her lungs.

“Jackson!” she exclaims when I yank off one shoe and then the other, tossing them over my shoulder, not giving a fuck where they land.

“You—”

I climb up next to her, sealing my mouth over hers, plunging one hand into her hair, the other clamping to her waist and drawing her against me, beneath me.

Her nails bite into my arms and there’s no teaching required when one of her legs settles around my waist, heel digging into my butt.

Instinct.

Two bodies learning each other—knowingeach other.

I drag my mouth along her jaw, nibble at her earlobe, taste the slender column of her throat.

She’s grinding against me, the sexiest little moans filling the air, her hips finding a rhythm that’s slowly driving me insane—and we’re barely even started. “Oh, God,” she whispers when I flick open the top button on her blouse, when I taste the silken skin between her collarbones.

“Too much?”

A shake of her head. “Not enough.”

Grinning, I continue slowly unbuttoning her shirt, methodically tasting the flesh I expose, parting the material, coaxing her up so I can free it from her body.

She trembles, and I realize I’m staring. “Fucking beautiful,” I murmur.

She is—outside and in, from the tips of her pale pink painted toes to the soft blond of her hair. And all the curves in between. Slowly, I trail my hand up her side, tracing the flare of her hip, the curve of her waist, stopping just beneath her breasts.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I’m shaking as I slide my hand up, cupping her over the plain cotton bra, feeling the tight bead of her nipple against my palm. I watch her face as I touch her, committing to memory what makes her lips part in pleasure, her hips buck against mine, her color heighten. But I don’t want it to just be me paying attention, clocking those details, know itcan’tbe only me, not if it’s going to be everythingsheneeds. “I do something you don’t like,” I say, waiting for her eyes to come to mine, making sure she sees how serious I am. “You tell me, and we’ll stop. I don’t care if I’m balls deep, okay?”

“I—” Teeth in her bottom lip.

“I need you to make that promise for me, okay?”

She inhales. Exhales. Then nods. “If I don’t like something I’ll tell you.”

“And we’ll stop,” I say again.

Another nod. “Yes,” she says, tone going firm. “We’ll stop, so long as you agree to tell me if I do somethingyoudon’t like.”

“Not possible, kitty cat.”

“I think it is?—”

I nip at her bottom lip. “You’re not even touching me and I’m ready to explode. This is your first time,” I remind her, ignoring the pink cheeks, “you need to feel like you’re in control.”

She wraps her hand around my wrist. “Then touch me, Jackson. Stroke my breasts and pinch my nipples the way I’ve imagined you doing a hundred times before. Slip your hand into my underwear and tease my clit. Fuck me with your fingers and suck my breasts and?—”

Red hazes at the edges of my vision as the rest of my control snaps.

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