Page 48
Story: Fake Lemons Love and Luxury
I block everything out. Tomorrow can sort itself out. Tonight, I just want to feel.
The house is quiet. Eric’s at Jen’s, and the thought makes my pulse race now that we're alone. The pretense of the evening has followed us home, blurring the lines I've tried so hard to maintain.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” I say as we step inside, kicking off my shoes. “You were… amazing.”
“Just doing my part.” He loosens his tie, and I follow the movement with my eyes.
“Everyone believed us.”
“Maybe because parts weren't pretend.” His voice drops lower.
I look up, finding his eyes dark and intent. “Which parts?”
Sean steps closer. “The way I couldn't stop looking at you.”
My breath catches. “I noticed that.”
“Did you notice this too?” His fingers brush my cheek, feather-light. “How I wanted to touch you all night?”
“Sean…”
“Tell me to stop, Wren.”
I know what’s happening. I know I should stop it. But I don’t want to. I can’t.
He leans in.
And I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
The kiss starts gentle—a question, an exploration. His arms wrap around me, lifting me against him as the kiss deepens. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
His hands are everywhere, leaving trails of fire on my skin. He backs me against the wall, his body pressed to mine.
“Bedroom,” I manage between kisses.
Sean lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist as we stumble toward the stairs. My dress is halfway off before we reach the bedroom.
There’s nothing restrained about the way he kisses me now. It’s hungry. Wild. A dam breaking after weeks of tension, all heat and friction and breathless urgency.
“I need you, Wren,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky, and heat flares between my thighs.
I gasp into his mouth as he walks me backward, bumping blindly into a wall. My hands find his jacket lapels, dragging him even closer as his lips move to my neck. He bites just enough to make me moan, and the sound drives him harder.
His erection presses against me, and my fingers thread in his hair, arching into him like I can't get close enough.
“Touch me, Sean. I need you inside me…”
That’s all it takes.
He makes a feral sound and lifts me. I wrap my legs around him, clinging to the magnetic strength of his body. We don’t make it to the bed. Not right away.
His mouth is everywhere. On my neck, my shoulder, the curve of my breast. Each kiss is scorching, each touch deliberate. I arch into him as his erection rocks against me, slow, teasing. My breath comes in short, desperate gasps as he keeps me pinned against the wall, like he needs to feel every inch of me, like letting go would undo him.
And it’s undoing me.
My body aches for him.
“Tell me what you want,” he growls, his lips pressing warm kisses to the swell of my breast.
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