Page 40 of The Players We Hate
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
“Put your arms around me.”
I did what he told me to without even thinking, threading my fingers into his hair. His other hand slid to the small of my back, tugging me closer until I was pressed against him. Hard and unrelenting under the zipper of his jeans, the feel of him dragged a sharp gasp out of me.
My thighs pressed together on instinct, but his hand moved lower, nudging them apart again, slow and sure. I couldn’t catch my breath before his fingers slipped beneath the lace edge of my panties. The first touch made my whole body jolt, heat rushing through me so fast it left me dizzy.
I clung to him, breath stuttering, every nerve lit up as his fingers worked over me—slow at first, then with more intent, until I couldn’t hold myself back. The pressure coiled tight, snapping before I could stop it.
A broken sound tore from my throat as I came apart against him.
“There it is,” he whispered, eyes dark and hooded. “That little gasp. That’s mine.”
His fingers were slow and skillful, dragging through the slick heat between my thighs. He didn’t rush. Didn’t press too hard. He just explored—mapping every reaction I gave him, every twitch, every breathless moan that escaped me.
I whimpered again, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“I need to know you’re mine before we take it further,” he said, voice rough. “I want you like this—shaking, begging, coming apart for me.” His hand tightened on my hip. “I want to taste you, bury my face between your thighs, and hear you lose control in my arms.”
“Talon,” I breathed, my grip tightening on his jacket until the leather creaked.
His eyes locked on mine, burning. “I want you under me, Wren. Wet, aching, knowing no one else will ever get this. Just me.”
His thumb circled my clit, making me buck slightly in his lap.
“You hear me, baby? I want every sound. Every breathy little moan. I want you togivethis to me. Not because I took it, but because youwantedit too.”
I could barely think, let alone speak. Yet somehow, through the haze, I found my voice.
“I do,” I whispered, trembling. “I want you.”
He groaned, deep and guttural.
“You have no idea what that does to me.”
His hand slid back up, caressing the inside of my thigh again. The teasing edge returned, but the heat in his eyes never faded.
“I swore I’d keep control,” he said quietly, his lips tracing the edge of my ear. “I told myself I wouldn’t cross the line until I knew it was yours to draw.”
I pulled away, meeting his gaze, pulse roaring in my ears.
“You’re notcrossinganything,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “If I give myself to you, it’s because I choose to.”
Something in his expression cracked. The last bit of his restraint was slipping. His hands tightened around my waist before his lips met mine in a kiss that was deep and raw, full of need and ache. It said everything he couldn’t put into words—that he wanted me, that he needed me, that he cared.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath still uneven.
“Not tonight.”
My body screamed in protest, but I still nodded. This wasn’t about rushing. It wasn’t about taking. It was aboutus.
The truck was quiet. The windows fogged from our breath. The bonfires still burned outside, thumping musicfaint in the distance. In here, it was just us caught between ragged breaths and the heat building while we waited.
Talon brushed his thumb across my jaw, his touch lingering as if he wanted to hold on to the moment.
“You’re gonna undo me, Red.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. “Then we’ll wreck each other.”
