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I know she can feel it. How hard she makes me. How badly I’m fighting this right now, because I know it’s wrong, and it’s right, and it’s confusing as all hell.

And I want to begood.For Nora.

I want to be the kind of man she deserves.

The one who will go above and beyond for her, who will protect her. I want to be the kind of man she’dwantto build a future with.

I want to give her everything she deserves.

My hands slide down her neck, my thumbs pressing into the column of her throat as I look down at her.

The last time I did this, I was drunk and so was she. But now there’s nothing to blame. Both of us are stone-cold sober and there’s not a drop of alcohol in sight.

I kiss her, hard.

I don’t sugarcoat the desire I feel, because she deserves to feel it. To feel the heat she stirs in me, the madness she drives me to. I am at Nora Brighton’s mercy, and I want her to know how truly amazing and powerful she really is.

Part of me expects her to push me away. To tell me to fuck off, that she can’t do this right now or ever, and that would be fine. I’d understand that. Hell, it would make the most sense because I know I’m overstepping here.

But she doesn’t do any of those things.

She grabs my hips and pulls me closer, my aching cock pressing into her with renewed vigor and need, and she kisses me back.

The world around me stops, because this kiss certainly isn’t like the last. It’s a rush all on its own. It’s a key, opening a lock I didn’t know existed between us until this very moment. I fall back into the bed with her as she leans back, bringing her legs up on my sides. Our bodies slide together, a tangle of limbs and tongues, as our mouths fight to mark every inch of available skin.

My cock aches as I grind against the bed, my hands sliding up beneath her sweater.

“He didn’t deserve this,” I whisper against her ear as I trail my hands over her stomach.

I gently tug at her sweater, and she lets me remove it, showing off those perfect round breasts in the same lacey bra I saw last night. I let my hands trail over them, my fingers teasing the skin through the lace as I find her nipples. I don’t even bother to pull her breasts out, because they look so perfect like this, hiddenbehind pale lace, her dark pink nipples stiff and poking through the fabric, begging to be touched. Praised.

I flick my tongue out and tease one, and she arches her back, gasping. I smirk and do it again.

“Russ…” she breathes, her legs tightening on my sides. I pull her lace-covered nipple in between my teeth as my hands work at her leggings. Her hands find my hair and she thrusts her breast against me, her body begging for more of my praise.

“He definitely didn’t deserve this,” I whisper as I suck hard against one nipple.

And then I stop. I take a moment to look at her, like this. Beneath me.

It’s not the first time I’ve had her in my arms, and I vow it won’t be the last. Because there’s no going back from here. Not now, not ever. Not for me.

Because I know as I gaze down at Nora Brighton, the woman I love, that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

I place a soft kiss on her lips as I trail my mouth over her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. I outline her freckles with my tongue as I carefully remove her breasts from her cups, seeing how peaked and pert they are from her arousal.

“Look at you,” I say. “You are so perfect.”

I pull her nipples between my fingers and she gasps, my name escaping her lips again.

“Russ, please, I’m?—”

“Not yet you’re not,” I tell her. “I haven’t even gotten started.”

She whines as I pull her nipple into my mouth and suck. Hard.

I massage her other breast, my fingers pinching and pulling as I continue to suck. If I’m not careful, I’m going to come in my pants.

Again.