Page 68 of Driven Daddy

“Why?” His dark eyes went from hot to simmering. “Why?” His touch gentled. “Rita?”

I didn’t want to talk about the crappy turn my life had taken. That I was unwanted again. That my career could be in shambles because I’d chosen myself for the first time in my whole goddamn life.

That I didn’t pick the known path and let Jenelle have it.

I let his wrist go and reached for his neck, dragging his mouth down to mine. I didn’t want to think.

I was so fucking tired of thinking.

He stilled, his mouth on mine, his whole body taut for a single moment. I almost stepped back, then he crushed me to him. That firm hand on my hair again, and the other arm wrapped around me until there was nothing between us but clothing.

He drew in a soul-deep breath as he kissed me. It was different from the storeroom. I knew him now, knew the shape of him even if I wanted to learn the rest.

Here in this sanctuary I’d chosen for myself?

I wasn’t sure I wanted it tainted with someone else, but he tasted too good. Felt too glorious.

I hooked my arm around his neck and went onto the tips of my toes. “Upstairs,” I said against his mouth.

He hiked me up another scant inch, and instinctively, I locked my ankles around the back of him, kicking off my shoes.

“I can walk,” I said against his marauding mouth. He didn’t let me even think about a breath. Maybe he was just as wild as I was.

Wouldn’t that be something?

To be on an even playing field with passion.

He just gripped my ass and strode for the stairs, never stopping the drugging kisses. We bounced against the walls on the way up the narrow stairs.

I hissed as my shoulder glanced off the corner of the wall, but I was lost to the runaway train we’d become. Gaining speed with every single kiss and touch.

I cupped his face as we got to the top of the stairs and sunlight highlighted his curls that had escaped his tail and my questing fingers.

He slowed, his breath a bit labored from carrying me up the stairs. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk.”

“You got it, Duchess.”

I whipped the black band out of his hair and dropped it. “Stop calling me that.” His wild curls unfurled, and I couldn’t stop myself from burying my fingers in all that glory.

He hurried through the hall to the door at the end. “Here?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as he strode through the door and lowered me onto the bed. The duvet was pulled up and the pillow soft fabric cupped my back and shoulders as we sunk down together.

“I don’t know that I can go slow at the moment.”

“I don’t want slow.”

He scraped his teeth over my shoulder, pushing at the strap of my bra and tank. “Good. I want to taste everything, but I need to get inside you. I can’t even think around it.”

“Then stop talking and thinking. I don’t want to think at all.”

He pushed himself down the bed and shoved at the tank top I was wearing. “Off.”

“Off,” I nodded. “Definitely off.” Then I froze, with my hands on his shoulders. “I definitely was working out a little while ago.”

He dragged his nose over my belly, dragging at the yoga pants. “I don’t care.” He grinned up at me, those curls around his face. “Lift.”

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