Page 57 of Obsession on Repeat
"You sure about this?"
"I’ve never been more sure about anything."
His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, more claiming than cautious. One of his hands slid beneath the hem of my shirt, skimming my bare skin. When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes locked on my mouth. "I’ve been thinking about this since the day I saw you."
I tugged him in for another kiss, and he groaned, his mouth trailing down my jaw, to my neck, to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. I gasped, my head falling back against the wall, fingers tightening in his shirt.
"You drive me crazy," he muttered against my skin. "Do you know that?"
"Good because I’ve spent every moment lately thinking about how it would feel to finally have your mouth on me… until I forget who I am."
He moaned, and I swear I felt it all the way down to my toes. His hands slid down to the backs of my thighs, and suddenly I was off the ground, his body pinning mine, the door holding me up. I wrapped my legs around him without thinking, heat pooling low in my stomach.
His mouth found mine again, weeks of restraint finally breaking. I melted into it, fingers threading into his hair. His hands were everywhere, gripping my waist, sliding up my spine.
The sounds he made in response nearly undid me. His lips left mine long enough to trail down my jaw, then lower to the hollow of my throat where his mouth lingered.
I arched against him. "Asher—" My voice broke around his name, half a plea, half a warning.
Breathing hard, he pulled back to look at me. His eyes were blown wide, mouth red. "Tell me if this is too much."
"It’s not enough." I tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel skin, needing him closer. He let go to pull it over his head and toss it aside. My hands were on him immediately, warm, firm muscle and skin beneath my palms.
He groaned as I kissed down his throat, letting my hands roam, savoring every inch. His fingers found the hem of my shirt, pausing.
"Off."
He lifted it over my head, his gaze dropping the second it hit the floor. "Fuck," he whispered, voice thick. "You’re…"
I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed his face and kissed him again. When his hands reached behind to unhook my bra, I trembled, but I didn’t stop him. I wanted this. I wanted him. The moment it came off, his hands were back on me, lips trailing fire across my collarbone, my chest, everywhere I ached.
He looked up, eyes heavy with want, and pressed his forehead to mine. "Last chance," he whispered. "Tell me to stop."
"Don’t you dare."
He carried me across the room, laying me gently on the couch. It was a blur to remove our clothes, and when he finally pushed into me, we both stilled. His forehead pressed to mine, his fingers lacing through mine. I lost my breath the second he moved, slow at first. I met his thrusts easily and arched into him, his name slipping from my mouth again and again.
"Rory," he groaned. "God, you feel…"
"I know," I whispered. "Please, please…"
He kissed me through each thrust, hitting deeper each time, making my body unravel around him. My releasehit hard, shattering through me, and he followed a breath later, burying his face in my neck as he broke apart in my arms.
The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing. When he finally looked up, his hair was damp, his eyes soft. "You’re going to ruin me, you know that?"
"That’s okay." My fingers brushed down his jaw. "I’m a little ruined, too."
We lay there for a moment longer, tangled in each other. His thumb traced slow circles against my hip. "What are you thinking about?"
"Whether the club has a spare blanket stashed somewhere. This couch is great for making out, not so much for sleeping."
"We could always try again. Solely for research."
I elbowed him gently. "You’re insatiable."
"I’m honest."
I let my head rest on his chest, my palm flattening against the warmth of his skin. "Don’t ruin this with your charm."
