Page 17 of The Fake Affair

It’s tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But when I respond, tilting her chin to deepen the kiss, it becomes fiery—hot and demanding, pulling us both under.

She moves to straddle my lap, and my hands find her waist like they belong there, steadying her as her hips press against my already hard cock in a slow, teasing rhythm.

“We shouldn’t,” I murmur against her neck, though my hands are already trailing down her back, tracing the curve of her spine.

“Probably not,” she breathes, but there’s no hesitation in the way she rolls her hips, drawing a low groan from deep in my chest. “Want to stop?”

“God, no.”

My fingers slide the zipper of her dress down with excruciating slowness, revealing smooth skin that begs to be touched.

Her breath hitches when my lips follow, trailing down her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. She’s wearing lace, barely there and utterly maddening. I pull one strap down, exposing her fully to me, and take her nipple into my mouth. Her back arches, a soft moan escaping her lips as my tongue circles and teases.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in the taste of her as memories of our night together begin to resurface in my mind. My hands roam over her thighs, her hips, gripping and kneading as her body moves against mine in a rhythm that’s driving me to the edge.

“Logan,” she whispers, her voice breathy but insistent. “Please.”

I slide a hand under her dress, finding her already wet and ready. The sound she makes when I touch her—a blend of surprise and need—sends a shiver through me. My fingers tease her, stroking and exploring.

She’s squirming in my lap now, her breaths coming faster, and I know I’m losing the last shred of control I have.

“Tell me to stop,” I rasp, though I’m silently begging her not to.

“Don’t stop,” she replies, her voice breaking on the last word.

I push her dress higher, my lips returning to hers, the kiss frantic and consuming. Her hands slide under my shirt, nails raking over my skin as if she needs to claim me, to mark me as hers.

“Logan?” she mutters.

“Mm?”

“What are we doing?”

“I have no bloody idea. But I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither,” she whispers, her chest heaving.

But then I do. I stop. I don’t want to make her feel like a mistake. Not again.

Her dress has shifted where she curled her legs beneath her, and the soft line of her thigh is a temptation I have to look away from just to breathe. But even with her looking like that, with her heart wide open and her mouth so close to mine, I could fall right back into her, and something tightens inside my chest.

She’s more than this night, more than just a woman in my arms. She’s the one I never let myself touch. The one I told myself was off-limits for so long, I forgot how badly I wanted her. “Let’s not do what we’d?—”

“Regret,” she finishes, her voice distant as she interrupts me.

The energy shifts entirely from hot and heavy to cold and distant.

She gets to her feet, pulls her dress down to cover herself, and heads to the other sitting room without a word. I’m left not sure who decided we were not going any further—her or me. Maybe both of us.

I sigh. Why are things with this woman so damn complicated?

FIVE

RED DRESS REVENGE

Bella

The Chicago deal changes everything and nothing.

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