Page 75 of Tangled Like Us
I could.
But I don’t.
In a swift, natural move, I cup the back of her thighs, and I hoist Jane up against my body—we’re eye-level, her legs instinctively spreading apart. Wrapping around my waist, gripping tight.
Her hands fly around the back of my neck and nestle in my hair.
“Oh,” she breathes, lips parted in arousal. I can practically hear themy Godthat sticks to her throat.
Jane.
I eye her, my pulse pounding.
Heat brews and overflows—she feels too good against my body. This is dangerous. I feel her panting. I feel her thumping heartbeat. I feel her in ways I never fucking have, and I just keep drinking in her breathless state.
She’s lapping up this position. Me holding her. Us welded together.
Her palm slides against the back of my neck, fingers threading up in my hair.
My cock stirs to life, and I restrain myself from carrying her to the bed.Don’t.This close, her scent overpowers me. Fresh flowers.
Spring.
Intoxicating me, stimulating places in me I didn’t think existed. Primal fucking need, and we stare straight into each other. Head-on.
No diversions. No glimpses away.
I head towards the task at hand, closing in. Our noses brush, heads turning, and this should be slow, should be gentle.
Our lips finally meet, and we combust.
I pull her harder against my body in an untamed, blistering kiss, and her arms and thighs tighten around me.
“Thatcher.” A breath expels from her lips into my mouth, and her delicate hand slips along my jaw.
My biceps flex, muscles scalding a billion degrees. We ransack all the passion that has been vaulted shut. All the heat and the fire.
I hold her soft ass, and I shift my other to her freckled cheek, hot as all fucking hell. I slide my tongue against hers, and she grips my shoulders to hang on and then bucks into me for more.Fuck.
Jane.
My dick aches against the fabric of my slacks.
Do not bring her to the bed.
Do not bring her to the fucking bed.
Lip-locked, I walk towards the bed, still tucking Jane protectively against me, but I only go for the wooden bedpost.
Her back meets the beam. I keep her in my strong arms, and her hands dive underneath my shirt and trace the ridges of my abs while I deepen the kiss.
I taste her need and longing against my tongue, and when I suck on her bottom lip, a strangled noise is trapped in her throat like she’s trying to suppress the high-pitched sound.
A grunt scratches against my lungs, and I hold her closer. She trembles against my body. Sweat building up on my skin.
I slow down with Jane, and our stroking eyes say more than they should.
“This is just practice,” she reaffirms in a shallow pant, lips reddened from the force.
