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He rounds his spine.

Lifts his chin to give me a wolfish grin.

Stills.

And breathes—gently—across the peaks and valleys of my breasts.

I need his mouth. His hands. Anything more than the air between us.

“How’m I doin’, Scotty?” he asks, low. I fight his grasp to get closer; I get nowhere. He releases my shirt and pins me in place with both hands. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You know what it means,” I grit out, struggling to keep looking at him or stand upright.

“Say it, Scotty,” he says, breath hot on my earlobe. “Tell me right now how you like what I’m saying. How you wish I’d peel those pretty little panties down your legs.”

Oh, God.

He takes a small step back, his hands pulling away. I need him touching me like I need oxygen.

“Fine,” I confess out of sheer desperation. “I like it.” My fingers claw at his vest as my hips struggle to rock in his grip. I look him dead in the eyes. “And you damn well know it.”

He smirks. “Good.”

One word and my body is set ablaze.

“Tell me you think of me when I’m not here.” The words sound like they've been dragged across gravel. “Tell me it’s me when you’re alone in bed with your hand between your legs.”

Through clenched teeth: “Yes.”

My mouth opens. He notices.

In my mind: Kiss me, kill me, or make me come; something’s gotta give.

He pauses.

Moves his mouth to my neck.

Breathes

a

single

hot

breath.

Andlicks.

My moan is instant, guttural, and does absolutely nothing to feed the angry bitch between my legs. And with the build of pending pleasure, there’s an instant shot of panic. A trapping. In a frantic motion, I release his vest, fight against the strength of his hold on me, and spin away from him to face the wall. He doesn’t seem to care because he adjusts his grip and presses into me, pushing me flat against the wall. My head turns so my cheek is flush with the cool wall, the front of him against my back. Despite every distracting accessory on his belt, against my ass, he’s hard as a steel pipe.

In my ear: “And when I finally slide into you from behind—so slowly you beg me to go faster—your body shakes.” His voice is so low and deep it’s like he’s penetrating me with a phantom appendage.

Oh, God.

“And that’s when I know it’s happening.”

His fingers find the hem of my underwear, once again sliding his fingers along the line so gently yet so achingly farfrom where I want them. I slam my palms against the wall with a grunt, fingers uselessly clawing at the smooth surface.