Page 69 of The Tryst

She’s a delicious sensory overload as the peach lipstick mingles with the heady scent from her neck, or her hair. Something fresh and floral, like jasmine. I don’t know if it’s her perfume or her shampoo, and I want to know, but I don’t want to stop this chaotic kiss for anything.

It’s wild and needy. The kind of kiss that you can’t control. It’s a kiss that controls you.

I hold her face tighter, kiss her more deeply, but it’s still not enough. For her either, since her eager hands travel up and down my arms, grabbing at me as she goes.

She’s trying to hold on tight too. Like we both know this is a flash of a kiss. It’s lightning, and it won’t last long.

But I want it to. God, how I want it to.

Her hands loop around my neck. She tugs on my hair. Pulls me closer.

My Layla is hungry, and I want to give her everything she needs. Curling my hands around her hips, I break the kiss then lift her up onto the counter.

In no time, she parts her legs.

“Yes, missed this so much,” I say, approvingly as I slide right into the V of her thighs, pressing against her center.

“Me too,” she gasps as I grind and rub, kiss and touch.

We’re fully dressed, but clothes feel like a formality. Like they’ll come off with a thought. This kiss feels like a prelude.

Shoving up her skirt to her waist, I yank her closer, jerk her against the ridge of my erection. She leans her head back, letting me lead the kiss entirely, urging me to claim her mouth, her neck, her whole body.

I want to claim her in every single forbidden way.

I kiss her ravenously, our tongues stroking, our lips consuming, and this feels dangerously close to fucking. I break the kiss, needing to get a handle on the situation.

Maybe.

Maybe.

I stroke her blonde hair, brushing some strands from her face, then gaze at her swollen lips. I didthat. And this flush on her chest? Yeah, that belongs to me. “I want everyone to know you’re taken,” I tell her in a harsh whisper and a barren confession that surprises me.

I don’t usually feel this way. This…possessive.

I can’t have her, yet I want to keep her all to myself.

Her blue eyes flicker. “I’m not seeing anyone. Not for real. You have to know that,” she says as she slides a hand up my shirt, grips the collar. “You’re the only one I want.”

I breathe out hard, trying to get a grip. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy,” I say, then drop my face to her neck and lick a path up her throat, reveling in the heady, delicious taste of her. “I’m dying to go down on you. Want to make you come on my lips. I fucking missed you.”

She shudders and parts her legs wider.

I’m helpless. She’s irresistible.

I raise my face, a wicked grin forming on my lips. Nothing else matters right now but this sizzling connection. This wild spark between her and me.

The world can go to hell.

She’s melting, and I’m running a hand down her blouse, over the buttons, on a mad path to her sweet pussy.

All I want is another taste of her. And I’ve got to have it.Now.

My hand journeys up the soft flesh of her thighs. I can feel her heat before I touch her. Can sense how wet she is. And when I reach the apex of her thighs and run my finger down the soaked panel of her panties, my chest swells with pride.

I nuzzle her neck. “You’re so wet,” I say, praising her as I stroke.

“Touch me,” she pleads, sounding like she’s seconds away from coming, feeling like it, too, as I stroke her through her wet panties.

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