Page 66 of Can't Always Get What You Want

“I have legs.”

“Not working ones.”

She glares—but it’s weak. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt like maybe she’s thinking about protesting, or maybe she just wants to grab a little chest on the way.

“I could do squats with you.”

“Please don’t.”

Grinning, our walk down her hallway is quiet.

Nothing but the creak of the hardwood beneath my feet and her breath fanning over my collarbone. I know where her room is. She pointed it out during that rinky-dink pity tour she gave me while trying to keep her hands to herself. Now I’m nudging the door open with my foot, stepping inside, and doing a quick scan.

Dang.

This room isher.

It smells like the same lemons from the kitchen and clean laundry.

The bed is unmade, but not messy—white linen sheets and comforter in a heap. A stack of books on the nightstand. A water glass. Cold medicine. Box of tissues.

Pair of fuzzy socks on the floor, like she peeled off in a hurry and forgot about them.

I love it here already.

I step closer to the bed and set her down carefully on the edge, like she’s breakable—even though we both know she’s probably stronger than me. She lands with a bounce and immediately tries to cross her legs like she’snotbeing swept off her feet in every possible way.

She brushes her hair out of her face, cheeks pink, breathing heavy, looking up at me like she’s trying to stay in control of this moment.

Cute.

I drop to my knees in front of her.

Grip her gently by the backs of her knees and tug her forward—slowly, carefully—until she’s perched right at the edge of the bed, legs parted around me, her thighs hugging my sides.

I want my mouth on her pussy so fucking bad…

It hasn’t escaped my mind that we haven’t kissed yet, but I hardly give a shit at the moment. I’ve wanted Nova Montagalo since the second I laid eyes on her and I’m not giving up the chance to put my mouth on her.

I want her breath hitching on my name.

I want her thighs trembling against my jaw.

I want to make nice with Mavis.

Her fingers grasp against the edge of the mattress; she wants to touch me but doesn’t trust herself to do it.

Good.

I don’t want to rush. I want tolinger.

I want her undone.

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” I promise. “But if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

She laughs. “I won’t tell you to stop.”

Music to my fucking ears…

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