Page 11 of The Backup

My breath hitches, and I bite my lower lip as I stand. Crossing the small space, I straddle him on the couch, wrapping my arms around his neck. Slowly, I lean in, my lips brushing down his clean-shaven cheek before landing on his neck.

I plant a long, lingering kiss there, savoring the way his skin warms under my touch.

“Mmmm, fuck, Sloane,” he groans, his voice gravelly and low, the sound vibrating against my lips.

His hands find my hips, strong and steady, pulling me closer until our bodies are flush. His bare skin grinds against mine, every movement electric. The absence of panties makes it impossible to ignore the heat between us, every subtle shift sending sparks racing through my body.

I instinctively thrust back, our rhythm aligning in perfect, tantalizing sync. It’s raw, intimate, and hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before.

His lips brush my ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “You have no idea how crazy you’re driving me right now.”

A shiver runs down my spine, and I tilt my head, my lips hovering over his. “Maybe I do,” I tease, my voice soft but laced with challenge.

His grin is wicked, his eyes dark with hunger. “Then don’t stop.”

The words hang between us, full of promise, as I press my body closer to his, letting the moment take over completely.

three

. . .

Sloane

“Sloane,”he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re wet already.”

“Been wet since I saw you in the library,” I confess—a ridiculous but true admission.

“That’s so fucking hot. Do you want to play…a different game?”

“Is that your way of asking me if I consent? Because the answer isfucking yes.”

He crashes his lips against mine, the kiss hot and wet, before trailing his tongue along my cheek to my ear.

“Take off your top,” he murmurs, his hands sliding from my hips to the hem of my tank top. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through me as he pulls it upward.

I hesitate for only a second before letting him guide the tank up and over my head, leaving me bare except for my bra. His eyes darken as they rake over my skin.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he breathes, his hands sliding up my sides. “You’re gorgeous.”

I bite my lip, arching slightly into his touch as his fingers brush against the edge of my bra. His lips find mine again,hungrier this time, and I lose myself in the heat of his kiss. Every press of his mouth feels like a spark, igniting something deep inside me that I can’t control, don’t want to control.

“And these…” he murmurs against my neck, his voice low and full of need.

His hands slide beneath the fabric of my bra, his palms warm against the softness of my skin as he cups my breasts. The sensation sends a shiver through me, and I instinctively arch closer, craving more of his touch.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he whispers, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, teasing, circling, until they tighten under his touch. “These are perfect.”

I whimper softly, the sound escaping before I can stop it. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze dark and heavy as it travels down to where his hands hold me.

“Take it off,” he says, his voice a mixture of command and plea. “I need to see you.”

My heart races as I reach behind me, fumbling slightly with the clasp of my bra. His hands steady mine, his touch sure and confident, and with a soft click, the straps fall loose. He slides the straps down my arms, his eyes locked on me as the fabric drops away.

When I’m finally bare, his breath catches. “Jesus, Sloane…”

The way he looks at me makes my cheeks flush, but not from embarrassment. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, just raw, unfiltered appreciation that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

His hands return to me, rougher now, more urgent. He runs his palms over my full breasts, then leans in, brushing his lips across the curve of one. My breathing hitches as his mouth finds my nipple, warm and wet, his tongue flicking over it in slow, deliberate strokes.

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