Page 133 of Pucking Tangled
“Not a fucking chance.” Waylon’s voice came out sounding strangled and hoarse.
Fine. If he wanted to be stubborn, then Mia would make him pay.
“Don’t say I didn’t ask,” she said, slowly lifting the black tank top over her head before letting it drop to the floor.
Her boobs were practically spilling out of the red lace push-up bra she had on.
Waylon’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared as he licked his lips.
Next came her cut-off shorts. She spun around and shimmed them down, giving him a view of the matching red lace cheeky panties. The ones she knew made her ass look good.
“Fucking hell, Mia,” he hissed.
“I told you to close your eyes,” she teased, looking over her shoulder and batting her eyes at him.
Mia picked up the shirt he gave her and pulled it over her head. It was big enough that she could take her bra off, almost with ease, from underneath. She tossed it in Waylon’s direction and put her arms through the sleeves.
Then she walked over to the bed, lifted the covers, and climbed in next to Waylon. Mia rolled onto her side, facing away from him, and pretended to snore softly.
Waylon quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. “You’re such a tease,” he whispered against her ear with a strangled groan.
“Shhh. I’m sleeping.” She tried not to laugh.
“You can sleep later.” He pressed his erection against her back.
“Hm. It feels likeyouhave a problem, Mr. Ryan.”
“Oh, I do. And I thinkyouneed to help me take care of it.”
Waylon’s hand settled on her hip, just below the hem of his shirt that she was wearing.
Mia whispered his name. “They’re right down the hall.”
“Then you better be quiet.” His hand slipped between her thighs and cupped her over the fabric of her panties.
She shifted slightly and he hissed as her ass rocked against his cock.
"Not fair," he said, voice tighter now.
"Who said I was playing fair?" she asked, her lips curving.
Waylon groaned and rolled her gently onto her back. The sheets rustled, and her heart stuttered at the weight of him above her. He held himself up on his forearms, careful and slow, eyes locked on hers.
“Mia,” he said, like a warning. Or a prayer.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“I don’t want to get caught,” she whispered.
“But you don’t want to stop, either,” he said.
God help her—he was right.
It was so much more than sex right now. Deep down, Mia sensed that Waylonneededthis. Needed her.
A noise from the hallway made them both freeze—just a door creaking somewhere in the house. They didn’t move, barely breathing. But nothing followed.
When the silence stretched again, Waylon dipped his head, his mouth brushing hers. “We can stop,” he said, breath hot against her lips. “Tell me to stop.”
