Page 101 of A Win-Win Situation

"You aremywife." His lips move to my neck and he finds the sweet spot that makes me moan out loud. "No one touchesmy wife."

I don’t know if I’m once again dreaming, but this, between us feels right. It feels perfect.

"You’re mine," he growls against my neck and his hand in my hair tightens. "Say it." And I give in almost immediately.

"I'm yours." There's no denying it—I’m his, and he’s mine.

"That's right," he murmurs while his hands slide down under my ass and he lifts me up, pushing me flat against the wall.

His lips find mine once again in a toe-curling kiss, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my hips deeper into him. Another throaty groan escapes his lips as I grind against him, feeling how hard I’m making him. It makes me smile against his lips. It feels like an award—it’smemakinghimfeel this way.

We keep kissing and I don't realize we're moving until my back bounces on something soft—a bed.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along my jawline. His voice is a seductive whisper against my skin, filled with a hunger that matches my own. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

His hands roam slowly, teasingly, over my body, igniting a trail of electrifying sensations wherever they touch. His fingertips glide over my dress, and the warmth of his touch against the exposed skin of my neck feels incredible. I arch my back, seeking more of his touch, my fingers grazing the fabric of his well-fitted shirt. As our bodies intertwine, I'm acutely aware of the subtle details—the play of fabric, the contour of muscles, and the irresistible force drawing us closer.

My hands reach for him and I slam my lips back on his. This time, I’m in charge, and I want more. My tongue finds its way into his mouth and he welcomes me with his. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. Our bodies move together in a rhythm that is both familiar and intoxicating, as if we were always meant to find each other, in this moment. But that feeling is quickly lost as he pulls away, breaking our connection.

"No!" I breathe at the loss of his lips.

"I need you to tell me I can touch you in private."

A small giggle escapes my lips. "Haven’t you been touching me?" I rise up, leaning back on my arms. My giggle fades when I find his face all serious.

"No, I want toreallytouch you. I want you to feel me everywhere for days to come."

"Yes, please.Pleasetouch me."

That seems to satisfy him because he nods and takes off his shirt, and I’m stunned again. Even though I’ve seen him shirtless several times, this time is different. His tattoos feel like a newly discovered secret, even though I’ve seen them many times. It’s the way they seamlessly transition from his full sleeve onto his chest creating an intricate tapestry of Arabic scribbles and symbols. Each mark appears to hold a unique story, and I'm filled with an irresistible curiosity to decipher every single word.

As I trace the lines with my eyes, I can’t resist the urge to reach out with my hand. At my touch, his whole body shivers, and I look up to find him focusing intently on my finger, his eyes igniting with desire. My finger continues down his stomach, following the faint line of hair that trails down his incredibly muscular abdomen and disappears past his waistband. A waistband I want to pull down right this second.

He’s so damn perfect.

"Thank you." He laughs as he leans down, hovering over my lips. "You’re quite perfect yourself."

Did I say that out loud? I don’t even know how to exist normally, he's making me malfunction.

His hands find the hem of my dress and he sucks in a breath when he slowly slides the material up my thighs and over my stomach until my breasts are completely on display for him.

His lips immediately lower to them and he sucks on one of my nipples while massaging the other—switching back and forth between them. It feels so good, but I need more. Much more. Several whimpers leave my lips and before I know it his hand trails down my stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The anticipation builds with each caress, as his hand ventures lower, inching closer to the place that aches for his touch the most. My breath hitches in my throat, eagerness coursing through my veins.

"Are you already wet for me, Leora?" He’s smirking because he knows the answer. He knows he'll find me completely and utterly soaked for him.

"You’ll have to find out for yourself," the words come out as a whisper—a whisper filled with the exact need he’s asking about.

He’s so close and all I want to do is scream at him to touch me.

I’m on edge, and if he doesn’t quench my thirst for his touch soon, I might have to put his hands on me myself, guiding him.

But there’s no need for that.

His fingers slide over my red underwear and when he finally feels the wetness that has been pooling there, he swears under his breath.

"Fuck, is this all for me?" His fingers caress me through my drenched underwear, making my head fall back. These past weeks have been foreplay—the arguing, the pushing each other's buttons, the flirting,everything. There’s been something in theair since the first day I laid my eyes on him in the lobby, and even though I didn’t like it, I’ve wanted him since.

His caressing stops and my eyes meet his in a plea to continue.

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