Page 11 of The Revenge Bride

He slides his hands up my sides tantalizing close to my aching nipples but not touching me.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he growls softly.

“Yes.”

“And then?” He kisses one corner of my mouth.

My mind blanks. “Then…I don’t know.”Liar. You want him stripped down and filling you up.But I can’t admit that. Can’t ask for what I want or need. Can’t be vulnerable in front of anyone especially him.

“Are you sure?” He pulls my lower lip into his lips, sucking gently.

I swear if I get any wetter, I’m sliding off this desk and puddling onto the floor.

He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue.

I put my hands on his chest. His muscles are delicious.

Just when I think this is almost perfect, Rhett takes my lips. He’s coaxing. Drawing me in. Sucking. Tracing my lip. Teasing the opening of my mouth.

He feathers my lips with his. Light little kisses that make me yearn. That make me ache.

“More?” His breath fans across my lips.

“Mmm.” That’s all I can get out. I’ve misplaced my voice—lost it to horny Lucy. The one who took over from never-with-Rhett Lucy.

He puts his large hand on the back of my neck and deepens the kiss.

I’m lightheaded from ravenous need.

I squirm on the desk, trying to press my thighs together except he’s there and I can’t. I’m desperate for relief.

His lips tip up at one corner. “See how good foreplay can be?”

What am I thinking?

I was about to flop back on the desk where anyone could walk in and see us and tell Rhett we should go at it. I push against him.

He steps back like though he’s got a hard-on he’s otherwise unaffected. Of course he isn’t. He’s not into me. We established that years ago. He’s only practicing for the wedding by kissing me.

He drops his hand to the bulge at the front of his jeans and adjusts himself. “To be continued later today?” he asks.

I shake my head. There are two reasons I don’t want to sleep with him. One—I know it would end in disappointment for me. All wet and no orgasm. Two—it would be a mistake to lower my guard with Rhett.

Because I’d be a fool to start something we both know has a determined ending.

Rhett lifts me off the desk and settles me on my feet.

“Your lip is swollen,” he says, swiping a finger across it. Then he lifts his hand to his lip and sucks on the finger.

“The agreement,” I blurt out, scrambling to open desk drawers until I find typing paper and a pen.

“You start writing it. I’m going to the back to relieve some pressure.”

I drop the pen and it rolls across the floor, coming to rest against a chair. “You’re going to the back to wank off?”

“Yeah. Want to watch me?”

“You…”

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