Page 45 of Fighting

Mateo

I rubmy eyes to keep them from bugging out of my head.

In my stunned silence, Nessa stalks toward me like a huntress. I am her prey, frozen in place.

With narrow eyes and hands waving wildly, she shouts words my brain can’t process.

All I can do is watch her pretty pink lips move and grin so wide my face hurts. Fuck, I love getting her worked up, but this is next level.

When she doesn’t pause to remove her shoes, I look down and my jaw drops. Those aren’t shoes. They’re over-the-knee stiletto leather boots.

“Holy. Shit,” I say with an exhale.

My heart races, my cock thickening as my mind screamsdo not come from the sight of her alone.

A foot in front of me, Nessa drops the coat to a puddle on the floor and lunges for me, wrapping her legs around my waist. I catch her under the skirt, the smooth skin of her ass instantly registering under my palms.

No panties under this babydoll?

“Fuck me,” I groan, gazing down to take in the full view of her in the tiniest slip of material that does nothing to hide what liesbeneath. I carry her out of the entryway, my heartbeat skipping as I come eye to eye with the pendant around her neck.

With her hands on my cheeks, she slams her lips to mine, stealing my breath. The kiss is hurried, all crashing lips, tongues, and teeth.

“I hate you.” Her eyes ignite, the flames as intense as the heat from her core pressed to my middle. The sensations are overwhelming. Nessa is all-consuming.

I’m afraid to speak, worried I’ll fuck things up again. Instead, I return her kiss and hope we’re done talking.

To my dismay, she pulls back again.

“Nothing bothers you,” she laments between each taste. “Do you know how hard I tried to get you back with that surprise?”

Unable to think of a reply, I simply resume savoring her mouth. My tongue parts her lips, and the sensual tussle continues.

She pulls back and forces me to make direct eye contact. “Worse, I hate every time you prove to be the opposite of what I believed. You’re meticulous. Hardworking.”

Goose bumps erupt on my skin at her admission.

“You’ve noticed?” My breath is barely a whisper.

Vigorously, she shakes her head, forcing me to grasp tighter so she doesn’t fall. “The flirting. Oh my god, I hate the fucking flirting. It’s like you know that I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

I’m stunned, smiling at these admissions.

When she puts her lips on my neck, every part of me is consumed with her.

My throbbing cock begins to leak precum. I need to free it, to feel her touch, to comewithher instead of to the memory of her.

She pulls back, brow furrowed, and studies my face.

Dammit. I swear if she changes her mind again, I’m going to punch myself in the balls.

“Can I touch you?” I whisper, desperate to feel every inch of her.

She rakes her fingers through my hair and tugs. “God, yes.”

I carry her into the living room and ease her onto the arm of the couch. When I pull back a fraction, I’m met with the most wonderful view of those luscious, perky tits.

Stepping back, I take her in fully with reverence. “Holy shit.”

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