Page 44 of Spinning Out Of Control

I lean in, bring my lips close enough to touch his butnot quite making contact, letting the energy between us ricochet.

“I was just going to ask you to take your shirt off before we go to sleep. It’s all wet.”

He smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

“Precious little pest.”

“Kiss me, Warren,” I plead, my voice a desperate whisper.

“Kira…” he says, his voice pained. I know he wants to. I can feel it, the energy and chemistry buzzing between us, drawing us closer and closer. He has to feel it. I’ve caught him staring at my lips with hunger too many times in the last few weeks for him to try to pretend.

“Please?”

My plea seems to break his resolve. He shuts his eyes as his forehead falls to mine. He says my name again but this time, the word sounds like a prayer. He pulls back, and I brace myself for the rejection. But he just removes his glasses, setting them on the bed beside him before pressing his forehead right back against mine. I tilt my chin, angling so that our lips just barely brush as my heart thumps against my breastbone.

And then finally–finally–his lips are on mine. It’s soft, slow, and teasing. A burning ember compared to the flames I’ve felt lashing between us all this time. He tastes like peppermint, and I can’t stop myself from searching for more. I tickle his bottom lip with the tip of my tongue and Ren lets out the sweetest soundingwhimper as he opens for me. I get lost in his touch, in his kiss, and even though my body is begging for friction, my heart is happily sated with the slow make out session, hot and heady like honey.

When he lays me down on his pillow, cocooning us in blankets and curling against my back, I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. Surrounded by the scent of sage and the warmth of Warren’s powerful arms holding me close, I drift into the deepest sleep I’ve ever had.

I can’t rememberthe last time I woke up in someone's arms.

Actually, that’s not true. Georgie is a big-time cuddler, and I’ve been her little spoon at many of our Pussy Posse sleepovers. What I mean to say is, I can’t remember the last time I woke up in a man’s arms, and while Ren might not have the same glorious Georgie-boobs that I like to use as a pillow, waking up next to him is an exquisite kind of torture.

His arm is banded around my waist, hand slipped under the hem of my t-shirt and splayed against my bare stomach. At some point during the night, I must have kicked my pants off. Unsurprising, since I think only demons and wack jobs sleep in pants. Ren mustfeel the same way, since I can feel the hair on his skin where his knee is slotted between mine.

We fit together like two puzzle pieces, and it’s completely unfair. I never had a shot in hell at hating this man, not really. He’s like Mary Fucking Poppins–practically perfect in every way.

I blink my eyes open, looking for the alarm clock to check the time. I try to slowly wiggle from his hold, but in his sleepy state, he only grips me tighter, groaning as he pulls my body back against his and directly into something hard.

Well, good morning. If I wasn’t awake before, I certainly am now.

I press my hips back, feeling the impressive length of him against the curve of my ass, and sigh.

Hello, bejeweled dick. I’ve missed you so much.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s not often I wake up with the woman of my dreams in my arms,” he says in a low, raspy voice that has my insides fluttering. He might be saying he’s sorry, but the wiggle of his hips and the way his hot breath skirts across my neck says otherwise. I inch back, aching for more contact as I reply.

“It’s okay.”

“Goddamn Kira, this neck. I’ve dreamt about this neck. It’s haunted me. All this soft skin and the delicate slope of your throat. Every time you throw your head back and laugh, I imagine kissing you there.” He punctuates the statement with a brush of lips against the back of my neck and goosebumps erupt all over myskin. I take his hand from my stomach and guide it lower, right to the edge of my panties.

“Kira,” he breathes against my ear, hot and heady. “You should stop. My self-control is hanging on by a thread here.” Based on the way he’s slowly grinding himself harder into me, I’d say his self-control is already gone.

I reach back, threading my fingers through his hair. I arch my back as I press my ass against his hard-on.

“I don’t want to stop,” I say, and he growls, biting down on my shoulder as he gives in and bucks his hips against me. The sensation of him holding me, the sounds of his pleasure as he fucks against my body is enough to melt me. But when he slips his hand down past the waistband of my panties and finds my clit, I nearly cry out from relief.

He starts slowly, finding the perfect position to manipulate my clit with two fingers. When I moan, tugging hard at the strands of his hair, he takes the cue, rubbing me in tight, fast circles as his hips bounce against my ass. I want him in me. Want him to push my panties to the side and fill me to the brim. It seems almost absurd that we haven’t done that, haven’t breached the barrier of fucking in earnest. But hell, I don’t have time to beg for it before my orgasm is cresting, tingling its way up my spine and down my legs and bursting in a crescendo of pleasure that has me crying out his name.

“Kira, oh my god, darling. I’m gonna fuckingcome,” he whimpers before biting down on my shoulder, canting his hips and pressing hard into my ass as his own orgasm rocks through him. His loud moan against my neck sends a wave of pleasure and pride soaring through me, the aftershocks of my orgasm still rocking through where he’s cupping me.

“Fuck,” I sigh as Ren slows the rock of his hips, pressing soft kisses to the bite mark I can feel blooming on my flesh.

Whatever walls I’ve constructed over the last few months might have been hit hard last night when Warren held me as I cried and then spooned me to sleep, but now they’ve been fucking obliterated. I’ve been trying so hard to make the idea of him seem wrong that I never gave life a chance to show me how right he could feel.

It’s like stepping into the golden glow of daylight after a long, cold winter. Now that I’ve felt the sunlight, I am so completely fucked.

17

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