Page 31 of Make You Mine

There would be no going back. How do I explain this?

And yet, I don’t stop.

Bringing both hands to my chest, I spread the suds across my sensitive skin which breaks out in goosebumps at the slightest touch. I shiver and bite my lip to fight back a moan while praying to God above that he gives me the will to stop.

Because while I’ve never physically been with a man, I do have needs. The desire to give in and find relief, to satisfy the urge that this man—Detective Ford—creates, is heady. Days on end of lust have made me weak.

I also don’t have a vibrator here to help me. Just a tiny swipe of a pulsing toy would send me over the edge, a beautiful fall into an abyss I so desperately need.

“Elijah…” It leaves me on a whimper as I reach my bare mound and then lower, right over my throbbing clit and labia. I’m soft and wet, so slick as I slip a finger between my lips and part them while the heel of my palm presses against the trembling bundle of nerves. It feels good.

Sends a small pulse of pleasure down my spine and then spreads throughout my limbs.

Yet my ache intensifies. Grows with each touch.

I need more.

Pressing against my entrance, I push two fingers inside until the second knuckle and stop, savoring the way my body reacts. How tight I clamp down, and I can’t help but imagine it’s him. His cock, not my fingers.

How thick he would be.

How his hands would grip me and position me to his liking.

How I would let him.

My hips gyrate once, and then again. I want it deeper. To feel just a bit of the burn—how I would stretch around him—and I add a third finger.

At once, I tremble. I’m so close.

The heel of my palm adds pressure on each slow pump, and I can just feel my orgasm fast approaching when the door to the house slams closed.

“No,” I cry out, fighting a different set of emotions. In the blink of an eye, I go from needing to come, to rushing out. The bathroom smells of his soap and my body is thrumming with a hunger I don’t know if I can control. I need to get inside my room before I get caught or jump his bones, both high possibilities, and within seconds of the door closing, I have the water off and a towel around my body.

Not changing into the clean set of loungewear on the counter, I clutch the clothes to my chest as I contemplate the fastest way to my room. Where he’ll go first, and how to not bump into the man.

Rational? No, but I’m a one-track mind with the destination of my room as the goal.

One foot in front of the other, I open the door and rush out without thinking, not seeing what is in front of me, and I slam into a wall of muscle.

A wall with strong hands that grab onto my hips to steady me. Whose fingers dig in, pulling a tiny whimper from me as I clutch my towel with my free hand to keep it in place. This wall smells like my kind of heaven and yet beckons me to become a sinner as our eyes meet.

Heavy-lidded, his hazel eyes smolder, and my breathing hitches. He licks his lips, and I bite the inside of my cheek while taking a step back. And then another.

Every processor in my body is blaring red and telling me to abort. To run.

To remember why we can’t go there.

“Ava,” Elijah says low, the timbre of his voice flowing over my skin like a caress, his large hands clenching at his sides. “Are you?—”

“Bye!” I yell out, interrupting him. He’s looking at me, and my body can’t handle his nearness. The way his heat sears into my flesh. How good his hands felt gripping my hips.

Without a backward glance, I leave him just outside of the bathroom and rush into the room I’m occupying. I don’t stop until I’m inside and the door is closed, cursing my stupidity and obvious reaction.

He’s a temptation I can’t avoid, and it could end in disaster for us.

We can’t. Even if I want him.

Maybe I should ask for a different?—

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