“I would love to see you that way again.”
Run. Run.
I stared up at him, incapable of saving myself.
He lowered his head, and I held my breath. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, the rumble of his voice pebbling my skin.
I clenched my eyes shut and whimpered as he clasped the back of my neck in a firm but gentle hold, one meant to control.
Cornered by a dominant, one who wreaked havoc on my libido, and I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to give into the magnetism of his bulk, the heat radiating off him—
“Can I kiss you?” His sweet breath caressed my face.
One little taste,I told myself. Fodder for the muse.
I pressed my lips to his, but he took over after my one tentative swipe, his hold on my neck tightening, and his other hand on my hip jerking me tight against hard muscle.
My mouth parted beneath his and he sank his tongue in, licking and tasting. Groaning.
The strength left my legs. Whimpers rose to my lips beneath his onslaught, his taking of my mouth, my mind. He consumed more than my lips, tongue, and breath—he took my thoughts, dashing every expectation of what a passionate kiss ought to be to dust.
Garret shifted forward, pressing my back to the shower door, his hand on my hip lowering to grasp my ass. He pulled me up, never taking his mouth off mine, and I settled my legs around his waist at the unspoken request, resting my throbbing core against his hard length. With a deep groan, he ground his cock against me, his fingers threading into my hair, loosening my ponytail.
I gasped against his mouth. Squirmed, embarrassed to be on the verge from climaxing from a mere kiss, with no direct stimulation to my clit.
His body undulated against mine, rocking with erotic intent, grinding his length against me. Without music, we danced to our needs, our bodies swaying, tangling, and pressing where needed, desperately searching for release.
I came. Hard.
I cried out, convulsing in his firm hold, and he held me gently, groaning while eating at my lips, my tongue, as though trying to swallow down my moans, devour me from the outside in.
Shuddering and ears ringing, coming down from my euphoric high, I realized what had happened.
Embarrassment slammed into me, sending another rush of heat over my face.
I turned my face away from him, and he allowed it, his nose and lips trailing along my jawline and neck.
“So delicious,” he whispered against my ear, sending ripples of goosebumps over my skin again.
“I-I’m sorry,” I managed, eyes still clenched shut, my lax muscles tensing in his hold.
“I’m not.” He pulled back and grasped my chin, turning my face toward him. “Look at me.”
I forced my eyes open. Lust still reigned in his eyes, but so much more shone in their depths. Surprise. Mischief.
“I haven’t come from dry humping since I was a teenager.”
I blinked at his confession, my gasp at grasping what he’d said drawing his focus to my lips.
We both burst into laughter, but he continued to use his body to press me against the shower door.
“I think I like you, Lissa.”
Another damn rush of heat, and I bit my lip, withholding from spewing all sorts of nonsense. Something I never did.
Garret rubbed his thumb along my jaw with a feather-like caress before lifting his attention back to my eyes.
I’d written about drowning in a man’s gaze. I’d fantasized, figured out the words to describe the sensation, but I’d never truly felt it. The consuming of one’s soul, losing a sense of self. The butterflies, the burn and ache between thighs wrapped around a trim waist.