Page 82 of End Game

I feel like I’m in freefall at his words, and I grip him closer. He turns his head, our lips now close enough that we could be kissing, but I need answers first. “Like where?”

He’s smiling again. Probably because I want details. “Where do you want me to kiss you? Your neck?”

Before I can respond, Nico dips his head, pressing his hot mouth to the side of my neck. He kisses and licks me there, making me gasp. “You like that?”

I can’t answer because my voice has disappeared, but yes.

I love it.

His fingers tug on the front of my hoodie—his hoodie—pulling it down so he can drop a kiss on my collarbone. “We need to get rid of this.”

Without a word I lift my arms, and he tugs the sweatshirt off, exposing me. My skin is covered in goose bumps, and the skirt of my dress is hiked up almost to my hips.

Reminding me that I have no panties on.

He kisses a fiery path across my bare shoulder. Then the other one. He gently nudges the strap of my dress down, and it falls to my upper arm, exposing more of my chest. I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his mouth on my skin, trying to remind myself that this isn’t the move. I’m only going to end up wanting more, and that will only lead us to trouble.

But it’s like all logical thought has been erased from my brain upon the first touch of his lips. I just want more.

This is looking to be the best make-out session I’ve ever had.

His hand drops to my rib cage, resting just under my right breast, and I suck in a breath, my core aching with anticipation. He slowly sweeps his thumb across my breast. My nipple.

I melt into him, pressing myself against his erection, and he rears his head back. I can feel him staring at me, and I slowly open my eyes to find his dark gaze locked with mine.

“You’re not wearing panties.”

“I know,” I whisper.

The smile that appears on his wickedly handsome face is filthy, and he shifts his hand so it’s fully covering my breast. “You’re a bad girl, Ever.”

I’m laughing. Is it the alcohol? The tone of his voice? The way his fingers gently massage my breast while I’m basically grinding on his dick? “No one has ever called me a bad girl in my life.”

“You’re the one who didn’t wear panties.” He presses his face against my neck, seeming to breathe me in.

“I didn’t want weird lines under my dress,” I admit, my hands sinking into the hair at the back of his head.

It’s like I can’t get enough of it. Enough of him.

Chuckling, he slides his hand down, gently cupping my rib cage before dropping to my waist. My hip. His mouth finds mine once again, and I kiss him back with everything I have, tugging on his hair. Desperate to get closer. I want him to consume me.

I want to consume him.

His hand falls to my thigh, resting there as our tongues twist, his fingers drawing lightly back and forth. Teasing me. Driving me out of my mind with anticipation.

“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers against my lips, and everything inside me clenches tight. My head is spinning, though I’m not that drunk. It’s from Nico’s touch. His mouth. His teasing fingers and soul-stealing kisses.

All thoughts of this being a mistake have fled my brain. I can only focus on the way his fingers play with the hem of my dress, perilously close to where I want them the most. And when those fingers slip beneath my dress and trace the spot where my pelvis connects with my thigh, a shuddery sigh escapes me—it’s not a place where I’m touched much beyond by my own hand.

“I can smell you,” he murmurs once he’s ended our kiss, his gaze dropping to the spot where he’s touching me. “We probably shouldn’t do this.”

If he stops touching me, I’ll scream like Portia did. My entire being is focused on the one place on my body where his fingers are. I cannot imagine him stopping, or what I might do if he does.

“Do you want me to stop, Ever?”

Swallowing hard, I slowly shake my head. “Please.”

It’s the only word that I can get out.

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