Page 91 of Vows in Sin
I’m currently single, and the man who made me that way didn’t make me feel this desired at the best of times. Still. I should push him away and run from this twisted seduction, but my body is paralyzed, trapped between his touch and the cold table beneath me.
His hands glide up my thighs, pushing the skirt of my dress higher and exposing more of my bare skin to the cool air of the church. I shiver, but it's not from the cold; it's from the way his touch brings me to life. Every nerve ending is wide awake.
The guilt cuts in deep and hot with shame. "Blaze, please," I beg, but even I don't know what I'm asking for. For him to stop? Or for him to continue? My mind is a whirlwind of confusion, torn between the morality hammered into me since childhood and my need for him. And the wanting cuts deeper.
His lips find mine again, swallowing my pleas as he presses against me, his body hard and insistent. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, echoing my own racing pulse.
He finds his way to the very core of me, and I gasp as he gently strokes the most sensitive part. My hips ease into his touch, betraying my inner turmoil. He stops kissing to watch my face, his breath hot on my cheek as he whispers, "Tell me you don't want this, Cleo. Tell me to stop, and I will."
But the words won't come. Instead, a soft moan escapes my lips; the sound is like a white flag, a surrender to the forbidden desire that is him. His eyes, intense, search mine for a moment before leaning in to kiss me again, his expert fingers never stopping their torturous dance.
My body jolts at the contact, a wave of pleasure crashing over me. He swallows my gasps, deepening his kiss as he strokes and circles, driving me to the brink of madness.
Will I be able to resist him?
