Page 106 of One and Only

If I leaned forward, if I fisted my hands in his jacket and tugged his body against mine, it would become all those things… the fast and furious and frantic.

And the absolutely awful part of the entire thing was I knew how much it would cost him if he touched me in the way he clearly wanted.

If there was any place in my life where I couldn’t be selfish, couldn’t dive headfirst into the thing I wanted, it was with him.

Because I cared.

I cared about him too much.

It wasn’t fake, and it wasn’t forced.

And if I dared think it, I knew I was falling in love with him, maybe just a little too much.

The brush of his mouth at my temple sent a shiver down my spine, and I pushed him back with just the tips of my fingers. His forehead creased in confusion.

“Sit,” I told him, lifting my chin toward a chair that was just a few feet away from us.

Beckett swallowed, the line of his throat moving in a way that had my mouth watering. With a searing look, he shifted back, pulling the chair so that he was less than a foot away from me, settling his big, long body into the chair, sprawling his legs open while he watched me against the door with hooded eyes.

I straightened against the door. I’d never felt more naked in front of a man, had never wanted anyone in my entire life like I wanted him, and even if this could backfire spectacularly, I took a deep breath.

“Tell me,” I said.

His brows furrowed. He sat up, fisting his hands on the tops of his thighs.

“If you can’t think straight when you touch me,” I said. “Then tell me.” I traced the edge of my pinkie along the neckline of my dress. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, his eyes lit with something dark and dangerous. “Greer.”

Just the sound of my name on his lips while we both straddled this most exquisite line had me pressing my thighs together. I brushed my fingers underneath the edge of the strap of my dress, and it slipped off my shoulder.

“I understand why you can’t,” I told him. I speared my hands through my hair, a slight tug as I tightened my fingers. My blowout would be wrecked, but I had a feeling it would be a worthy sacrifice. “This is as much for me as it is for you.”

His chest expanded on a deep breath, his eyes hadn’t moved a single inch off my face. And underneath those tailored dark-gray pants, I saw exactly how much he wanted me.

I bit down on my bottom lip while I studied that bulge in his pants, and he made a dark, growling noise from deep in his throat.

“I’d kiss you first,” he ground out.

“How?” I asked. I touched the pads of my fingers to my lips. “Hard? Or soft?”

“What do you think?”

I pinched my eyes shut and imagined it. He’d grip the sides of my face. Seal his mouth over mine, suck the air from my lungs like a punch, and I’d fucking love it.

He’d devour me whole.

“Hard,” I answered immediately. Dazedly, I opened my eyes again. Leave it to him—the man who I thought wasn’t my type—to give me the most visceral sexual experience I’d ever have in my life without laying so much as a finger on me. “Especially right now. You look … angry about how much you want me.”

His jaw clenched tight.

“You’d have your hands in my hair,” I continued. “It would hurt a little.”

His hands shook. He was fisting them so tightly.

“But you wouldn’tonlykiss me for very long,” I said.

Slowly, he shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t.”

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