Page 21 of The American Wives Club

Though I wouldn't mind tying him up and taking command, maybe gagging him too so he can't gripe at me. He is gorgeous, and I'm so far past pent-up. Celibacy sounded like a good idea until I met Callum. My gaze wanders over his hot body and all those muscles…No sex with the grumpy Scot. Got it?

Callum slumps into the sofa. "I'm sorry. You're trying to help, and I'm acting like abod ceann." He gives me a wry smile. "That means I'm a dickhead."

"No, you're just frustrated. And I'm starting to understand the reasons for that." I walk over to the sofa and sit down beside him. Not sure why, but I feel the need to console him. "I shouldn't have pushed you to talk about sex. I want to help you, and I feel like I'm failing at that."

"You aren't." His gaze shifts to my mouth. "That kiss yesterday helped a lot."

"We shouldn't do that again."

He sighs. "Aye, it wouldn't be right."

But I'm so damn sick of doing the right thing. Giving my ex-husband chance after chance to reform his ways had gotten me nowhere. I haven't slept with anyone in so long. And Callum knows how to kiss.

He slides a hand up my arm, his rough palm exciting my skin. The short-sleeve blouse I'm wearing lets him slowly glide that hand up almost to my shoulder. Our gazes connect, and suddenly I can't catch my breath, mesmerized by his pale blue eyes.

Callum drags his hand over my shoulder, up my neck, to cradle my nape.

What's the harm in one little kiss? Nobody will ever know I did it.

But it's wrong. I should move away from him.

Callum leans in, his mouth a hair's breadth from mine.

I swear I can taste his breaths as they tickle my lips, and the scent of his aftershave teases my senses. I can't stop staring at his mouth or stop myself from dragging my tongue across my lips. Maybe I can indulge in one kiss, just to get it out of my system.

He wraps his free arm around me, tugging me into his body, while with the other hand he keeps hold of my nape. "Need to taste you again."

"Yes, please."

Callum presses his mouth to mine, groaning deeply. I moan and sag into him. He slips his tongue between my parted lips, teasing me with light flicks while he slides his hand down to grasp my ass. He tastes so damn good. My pulse races as a sensual heat rushes through me, and I can't catch my breath.

Then it happens.

A switch flips inside me, one that shuts down all common sense and self-control. I swing my leg over to straddle his lap, my sex now poised above his hardening dick. We keep kissing, the passion erupting like a fire doused with gasoline, and we begin to grope each other wildly while our tongues lash and the kiss grows deeper and hotter. He clamps his hands onto my ass, tugging me into his erection.

I tear my mouth away from his, breathing hard, and gaze into his eyes.

Then I grasp the zipper on his jeans and yank it down.

Chapter Eight

Callum

Kate is unzipping my trousers. Am I still asleep and dreaming? The woman who dislikes me and seems to relish torturing me three days a week just took hold of my zipper and dragged it down. All the way down. My swollen cock, though trapped inside my boxers, bulges out to graze her groin. Is she about to fuck me? Here on the sofa? In my cousin's apartment? No, Kate wouldn't do that. I should stop this before she does something she'll regret.

But she doesn't seem to be regretting it right now. The look of sheer hunger on her face makes myslatthrob.

I push my hands under her skirt, curling my fingers around her hips. My brows lift. "Where are your knickers?"

"Don't wear them."

"Never?"

She makes a frustrated noise and shoves a hand inside my boxers, pulling my cock free. When she drags her tongue over her lips and strokes my length, I suck in a sharp breath.

Aye, she means to fuck me.

I should stop this. Shouldn't I? Kate said she wanted to talk and clear the air, not hold my dokey in her hands. But I cannae make myself tell her to stop. I want her so much that I can't think anymore. Well, my lack of brainpower might have more to do with her stroking myslat.

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