Page 42 of Brands

His lips move next to my ear, letting out a low groan. “I never said I didn’t want you. I said I can’t…Or shouldn’t.”

“That’s too bad. I could really use the distraction.” My fingers stray down, brushing over his zipper.

Impulsively, I twist in his arms, grabbing the front of his jeans.

“We had a deal.” A smile flickers over his lips.

“Yea, that I couldn’t come again. But we never said anything about you.” I drop to my knees before he can stop me and fumble for the button to his Wranglers.

Damn buckle.

They’re harder to take off from this direction.

His deep, rich laugh fills the room, then he lifts me by my armpits. “We can always renegotiate the terms.” His strong palms move to my thighs, wrapping them around his hips as he braces me against the cool concrete wall.

My arms fly to his neck, pulling him closer.

His voice drops, his whiskers tickling my chin. “See, I’m the kind of guy that firmly believes inladies first.I don’t think I’d even be able to get off before you.”

When his lips touch mine, it’s like last time.

But better.

This time isn’t a surprise, or a game.

He kisses me with purpose, claiming my mouth as his.

Fire runs through me when our tongues battle, and we both ignore his Stetson falling to the floor so my fingers can run through his hair, tugging him even tighter to me.

I can feelhimgrinding against me, rock hard through the layers between us.

“Please,” I beg him as his mouth burns its way down my jaw. “Let me touch you.”

I know we probably won’t be together forever. But for just a little while, I want to be his.

He pauses, staring into my eyes. “Libby…”

Fucker.

I buck my butt against the wall, pushing him away until my feet land on the floor.

“Do it, or don’t. But stop messing with me if you don’t want to go along.” My finger jabs towards the desk. “I can do this. I’m figuring it out without you.”

Son of a bitch, my lower lip is quivering and I can’t stop it.

Why do I always cry when I get pissed off?

The sound of his zipper shuts me up.

A thin veil of black fabric juts from the gap in his jeans.

“I have never had a woman get so mad she couldn’t have my cock.” His sideways grin makes my knees weak.

Tentatively, I reach out and stroke the taut cotton, the only thing between us.

With half-lidded eyes, he presses me against the desk, grabbing my wrist and cupping himself with my palm. “It’s yours, rebel. But I’ll say it again, I’m not giving it to you here.”

My fingers trace the bulbous head, making him inhale sharply.

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