Page 45 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
“What the hell, Beck—“ she starts, breathless, but I don’t give her room to finish.
“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I growl, pressing closer, “and walk away like nothing happened.”
Her eyes flash, lips parting to argue, but then my mouth is on hers. Hard. Hot. Desperate. She gasps against me, fists clutching my shirt intending to shove me off, but instead she yanks me closer.
The kiss is wild, no restraint or hesitation. My hands find her waist, sliding up the curve of her spine. She tastes like stubbornness and sin, sweet and sharp all at once.
“You’re infuriating,” she pants between kisses, her nails dragging down my chest.
“Yeah?” My lips trail along her jaw, biting soft at the line of her throat. “Yet you’re the one melting in my arms.”
She hisses, but it turns into a moan when my hands dip lower, gripping her thighs. I lift her, pinning her to the wall, her legs wrapping tight around my hips. The squeak of her back hitting the shelves only fuels me.
Clothes shift, tugged and desperate. I yank her blouse open enough for my mouth to claim every inch of skin I can reach. Her fingers fist in my hair, pulling, demanding.
Every kiss, every grind of her body against mine is layers of tension unraveling in seconds. It’s messy, greedy, addictive. We can’t get enough of each other.
“Beck—“ she gasps, head tipped back.
I silence her with another searing kiss. “Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that.”
Her moan is breathless, almost broken, but she doesn’t stop. She pulls me down again, lips bruising, bodies colliding harder until thought doesn’t exist—only the heat, only her.
Her tongue slides against mine in a duel neither of us wants to win. Her nails rake down my chest, sharp enough to sting, and I groan, grinding my hips into hers so she feels exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Damn you,” she gasps when I tear away just long enough to mouth at her throat.
“Already halfway there,” I rasp, hands gripping her thighs.
Her skirt rides up high, exposing the thin fabric of her panties that’s acting as a barrier between us when I press into her. She gasps, head tipping back as I rub against her, hard and deliberate. Her body arches to meet mine, shameless in its demand.
“Say you don’t want this,” I dare her, lips dragging over her collarbone.
She glares down at me, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. “Stop torturing me.”
Then her hand shoves between us, fumbling with my belt. My laugh is low, dangerous. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Her panties are shoved aside, my jeans barely low enough, and then I’m sinking into her wet pussy—hot, tight, perfect. She cries out, muffled when I catch her mouth again, swallowing the sound. I grind deeper, slower than I should, savoring the way her body clenches around me.
“God, Quinn…” I mutter into her hair, forehead pressed to hers.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, dragging down my back as she rides me hard, meeting every thrust with reckless abandon. Each motion rattles the shelves, equipment echoing around us.
Her breath stutters, her voice breaks. “D-don’t stop.”
Like I could. I slam into her harder, faster, chasing the sound of her unraveling. My hand slips between us, fingers circling her clit until she’s clinging tighter, legs trembling around my waist.
She comes with a sharp gasp, head thrown back, and I bury my face against her neck, following her over the edge with a groan that shakes out of me raw and broken.
She slumps against me, hair mussed, lips swollen, still catching her breath. I ease her back down ever so gently. My body’s still humming, every muscle thrumming with the aftermath of her. She mutters something about it never happening again, but I don’t even bother arguing. I know better.
I watch her straighten her skirt, cheeks pink and eyes flashing at me. She wishes she could burn me alive and climb me again all in the same breath. That contradiction alone makes my grin split wide.
She signed me up for this shoot thinking she had the upper hand, thinking she could control me, maybe even embarrass me. But standing here, with her taste still on my lips and her body still trembling from what I just gave her, I think we both know who really won today.
I zip my pants back up, still grinning as she storms off ahead of me, muttering about mistakes and bad decisions. Maybe she really believes that. Maybe she wants to.
But me? I just lean against the doorframe, watching her hips sway. She doesn’t realize I can still feel them in my hands, and I let the thought settle in, slow and certain.
