Page 73 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
“Looking at me like that.”
Her lips part slightly. She blinks up at me in confusion. “Like what?”
She wants to play dumb? Not happening.
“Like you want me to kiss you.” I lean closer, my voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Because if you keep looking at me like you’ll starve if I don’t, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”
But Havana doesn’t stop. Sure, she blushes. But if anything, her gaze intensifies. Then she pushes away from the counter and pads toward me, slow and deliberate. I should back away, put a counter between us—something. But my feet feel rooted to the floor.
“Havana…” I growl another warning. “I’m serious.”
She swallows and steps directly in front of me, close enough that I smell her—vanilla and jasmine and something uniquely her that makes my head spin. I swallow back a thick knot of lust.
“Ransom…” she whispers my name for the first time. Not Mr. Garrison. She’s crossing boundaries.
She does it again when she lifts her fingertips and settles them on my chest, over my heart.
No way she can miss how it’s racing at her touch.
That’s all it takes to light me on fire and bring me dangerously close to my knees. Every rational thought flees my brain. “You don’t know what you’re inviting.”
“You’d never hurt me.” She rises on her tiptoes, tilts her face up to mine, and brushes her lips against mine—soft, tentative, testing.
She’s right, and I’m fucking lost.
Without another thought, I surge into her personal space, tug her against my body, and capture her mouth with a hunger that should terrify her. It’s so primal, it scares the hell out of me. As if they have a mind of their own, my hands grip her waist, and I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs.
I glance down to find my shirt on her body riding around her hips. A wave of possessive desire crashes through me. But the sight of her bare thighs and the pale pink panties between them, dark with a damp spot, makes my vision blur with ravenous need.
I grip her face and tilt her under my conquering mouth. When she gasps into my kiss, I swallow the sound and push deeper inside her, claiming her with my tongue like a man starved.
With a little whimper that incinerates the last of my self-control, she wraps her legs around my hips and grips my shoulders as if she’s drowning and only I can save her. She kisses me back inexpertly but enthusiastically, making little whining noises in the back of her throat that have me wondering… Would she make those same sounds while I’m fucking her?
“Baby girl…” I breathe against her lips before I trail kisses down the soft skin of her throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She arches into me, tangling her fingers in my hair. “Show me. Please…”
I shouldn’t. Really. She belongs to Ethan, and not only am I poaching, I’m a grown-ass man seducing an underage girl. I have to stop or I’m going to hell.
Even with that litany in my head, I can’t stop myself from sliding my hands under the hem of my shirt, gliding my palms across her silken skin, then gripping her hips and pulling her against the hardness straining my jeans.
Together, we rock, me notching against her pussy while she moans and gasps, nearly breaking my control completely.
This has to stop.
With a curse blazing across my brain, I wrench away. “When is your birthday?”
“March sixth.” Her voice wobbles, sounding breathless and wrecked.
Fuck. That’s seven interminable weeks away. I have to stop this, put distance between us before I lift her, carry her back to my bed, and stop caring about anything except losing myself inside her.
But one glance at her dilated eyes and swollen lips, and my logic burns away. I kiss her again, deeper this time, my hands roaming under the T-shirt, fingertips dragging across places I shouldn’t touch. Second later, it’s clear she isn’t wearing a bra.
Fuck. And her mouth… The flavor of her kiss is like honey and sin and everything I’ve ever wanted but never dared to taste. I’m already addicted. Obsessed. I need her now. I’m going to lose my goddamn mind without her. I hope like hell she’s prepared for what I’m about to unleash on her.
“Dad? What the fuck?” Ethan demands.
I spring away from Havana like I’ve been electrocuted and whirl to find my son standing in the doorway, his face a mask of shock and fury.
