Page 75 of My Pucked Up Enemy

My mouth crashes to hers, hands roaming, claiming, undoing her in return. Her camisole goes next, tugged over her head, followed by the soft bra I unclasp without breaking the kiss. I take a second to look, really look, and it undoes me.

“God, Nina,” I breathe. “You’re beautiful and so hot.”

She pulls me down again, grinding against me, her heat driving me insane. I peel her jeans off slowly, savoring every inch, every gasp, every shift of her hips. My own clothes are gone next—her hands are impatient, eager, tugging, sliding, pushing me until I’m bare above her.

We pause for a breath. Her eyes on mine. My eyes on hers.

“I’ve wanted this since the second you mouthed off at me in front of the team,” I groan.

“Likewise,” she says, voice husky. “Especially when you glared at me like you were either going to bench me or bend me over a desk.”

I laugh, because she’s probably right.

“Yeah,” she teases, “you like the bossy ones.”

“I likeyou,” I growl.

I kiss my way down her stomach, feeling every tremble, every inhale. Her thighs part for me instinctively. And when I finally taste her, her hips buck and a low moan escapes her lips.

“Alex—fuck.”

I grip her thighs, anchor her in place, and keep going until her hands are clutching the sheets and her back’s arched off the bed. When she comes undone, it’s not quiet. It’s everything. Raw and real and addictive.

I crawl back up, and she grabs my face, dragging my mouth to hers with a hunger that ignites me all over again.

“Your turn,” she pants.

“Not done with you yet.”

She laughs a deep, throaty sound, and flips us again, straddling me with her hair falling in waves across my chest. “You never shut up during sessions lately.”

“Can’t help it,” I groan. “You’re distracting. All the time.”

She reaches between us and guides me in slowly, inch by excruciating inch. My jaw clenches. My hands dig into her hips.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Why does this feel…”

“Like everything?”

She nods, grinding down, setting a rhythm that makes me see stars.

We move together, no pretenses, no walls. Just heat and breath and low, reverent groans in the dark. At one point she kisses my shoulder and whispers, “You get under my skin too.”

And I’m gone.

We finish tangled in each other, chests heaving, hearts pounding. Her head rests against my shoulder as I pull the blanket over us.

Neither of us says the word for what this is.

But we both feel it.

And that’s what scares me most.

Because I don’t think I’ll survive losing this now that I’ve had a taste.

But she drifts off to sleep for a while, I think.

When I wake up, the bed is cold.

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