Page 58 of Why Not Us?

“You want to give them a real show, princess?” I ask, looking back at her.

Her breath catches and a spike of heat washes through me with the knowledge that she wants me. Possibly as much as I want her. Ever since that first kiss, I’ve wanted a second. I’ve wanted to feel her small body pressed against mine, her lush lips opening for me.

“Yes.” Her agreement comes out as a whisper and she sways toward me, as though she’s a flower being blown in the wind.

I let go of her wrists to cup her face and lower my head to hers. As soon as our lips touch, she makes a low sound that sets my blood on fire. She leans closer, her arms winding around my shoulders. My hands slip from her face to around her waist, tracing a line down her back to grab her ass and pull her to me. My dick approves, hardening. She has to feel it against her belly.

She makes another sound that goes straight to my head, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue delving inside to caress hers. One of her hands creeps up, her fingers sliding into my hair.

I release her lips to capture the skin of her neck, and she tilts her head for me.

When she sighs my name, I forget everything else around us. I forget all the things that were supposed to be reasons we shouldn’t do this. What I had meant to be a show for whoever was watching becomes me desperately wanting to peel her clothes from her body and sink into her.

“Can I take you home, princess?” I say.

She blinks up at me, like she can’t quite understand my words. Her bright green eyes are filled with hazy lust, and I have to kiss her again.

“No hard feelings if the answer is no,” I say.

She kisses me this time, her eyes closed. “Yes,” she whispers against my lips.

I don’t wait, tugging her with me to my bike, strapping on her helmet. I climb on first and she gets on behind me, snuggling up against my back, wrapping her arms around me. It takes forever to get to her place and I’m frustrated every second. Riding a motorcycle with a hard on is not the most pleasant experience. Eventually, we arrive and she points around the corner to the back of her building where she climbs off and pulls out her keys to let me park in the underground. She follows me to a visitor spot and removes her purse from my saddle bag, pulling out a visitor parking card.

“You always have one of those on you?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, then takes my hand, leading me to the elevator. As soon as we’re inside and travelling up, I pin her against the wall, our lips crashing together once more. She moans as I lift her, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. When the elevator stops, she hops down and leads me through the hall. I’m right behind her when we reach her door, sliding her hair out of the way so I can kiss the side of her neck.

I chuckle after a moment and say, “You haven’t opened the door, princess.”

She quickly unlocks it. One step inside, she turns, holding a hand up. “Wait,” she says, disappearing through a door to my left. She’s only gone a moment before she comes out with some condoms, her face bright pink, those sweet freckles standing out on her nose.

She takes my hand again and leads me through another door straight ahead: her bedroom. Her hands are trembling when she sets the condoms on a bedside table and turns back to me.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

“A bit. It’s been a little while for me.”

I place a gentle kiss on her lips and her hands slide along my chest, curling to grab my jacket and hold me close.

“Just remember, princess. You still have your safe word. We can stop anytime you want.”

She smiles up at me, and yeah, that smile is definitely going to get me in trouble. “The safe word is for if I don’t want to do something you’re taking me to do.”

“I’m taking you to bed right now to do something. It counts.”

I kiss her again, hardly able to get enough of her, removing her riding jacket to get a little closer. As I’m removing mine, there’s a shift in the way she’s kissing me, like she’s gone inside her head and isn’t here in the moment.

I pull back, not letting her go, but not kissing her anymore. Which feels like a crime. “Is something wrong?”

She bites her lip—hard, taking half a step back, forcing me to drop my arms. She wraps hers around herself instead.

“I—” She takes a breath and smooths her hands over her shirt and pants, then clasps them in front of her.

“Don’t do that,” I say.

She meets my eyes, clearly confused. “Do what?”

“Try to make yourself be brave. You don’t need to be brave with me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

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