Page 33 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

But just as I go to pull away, a hand grips onto my arm, stopping me.

Freezing, I look down to see Millie’s thick lashes flutter, hazy eyes opening and finding me as a smile plays on those pretty pink lips. “Logan.”

My name whispered in that throaty, sleep-filled way does things to me I cannot for the life of me begin to fathom. And whatever self-control I had is waning by the second the longer she looks up at me, mossy green gaze dazed and heavy lidded.

“Get some sleep,” I whisper, tamping down the sound of the voices bickering inside my head; one is screaming at me to walk away, the other calling me a pussy and demanding that I kiss her.

With her eyes set firmly on mine, Millie’s hand moves from my arm, up over my shoulder and down the front of my chest, fingers gripping the front of my shirt.

And just when I’m about to tell her that whatever this is that’s happening is not a good idea, the words on the tip of my tongue evaporate into thin air the second she tugs me closer, so close until our noses are touching.

“Millie, I?— ”

“Shut up,” she interjects, pulling me even closer, her lips claiming mine.

And sure, she’s possibly in one of those semi-conscious states between asleep and awake, not at all of sound mind, but I’m only human.

Millie’s lips move against mine, slow and tentative, yet firm with determination, and it’s taking all I have not to wrap my hand around the back of her neck and shove my tongue deep inside her mouth.

This isn’t about me. This is all her. She’s in control right now.

I need to shut the hell up and enjoy the ride, taking whatever I can get.

Her soft hand comes up to my face, cupping my jaw, her thumb stroking my cheek in a way that’s so tender it causes my heart to skip a few beats.

She snakes her hand behind my head, nails raking through my hair as she urges me impossibly closer.

When I feel her tongue drag along the seam of my lips, I part just enough for her to push inside my mouth, and an involuntary groan tears up the back of my throat and falls into our kiss, seeming to spur her on.

Millie shimmies out from underneath the blanket, and I cast a sneaky look downwards, another guttural groan rumbling from deep in my chest when I see that she’s wearing nothing but a pair of tiny silk shorts, and fuck me, her thighs are my Kryptonite.

All I can think about is exactly how they felt clamped around my head last night as she came apart on my tongue.

I’m forced to squeeze my eyes closed before I implode and come in my pants, not for the first time over this woman.

Blindly, I kick off my shoes before climbing onto the bed, nudging one of my thighs between hers while trying to keep my weight off her.

I trail a hand down her side, reveling in the feel of the soft curve of her hip beneath my palm.

Fuck she’s hot, and I am a weak, weak son of a bitch.

I press my thigh against her pussy and she sucks in a gasp, a whimper slipping from her mouth and into mine, and I stifle my smug smirk, taking over the kiss and thrusting my tongue into her sweet mouth .

Millie’s hand moves down my chest, my stomach, stopping at my belt, and tugging on the buckle. And I know I should stop this before it goes any further, but again, I’m a spineless asshole when it comes to this woman.

My hand seems to have a mind of its own, moving from her hip and magically slipping between her legs, grazing her center. She’s so warm, the silk of her shorts damp, and I mutter a curse, licking into her mouth again as my hand rubs against her, causing her hips to buck.

Her fingers are frantic as they try and fail to release my belt, and I feel like a fucking teenager again, desperate to reach second base in the back seat of my mom’s car.

But I don’t care. It’s as if I’m having some sort of out-of-body experience, and all I need more than air right now is Millie Shaw.

My thumb presses against her clit through her shorts, and I can smell her mouth-watering arousal, feel just how wet she’s getting, and something low in my gut starts to unravel. I need her. I need her so fucking bad it hurts.

“Logan,” Millie whimpers against my mouth.

I clamp her bottom lip between my teeth, my lids heavy when I look into her eyes to find her pupils blown out, desire and need evident within her dazed gaze.

“Fuck me,” she whispers. “Please.”

And there it is. That’s what does it.

Most guys would probably laugh and call me a sorry ass son of a bitch, but Millie whimpering my name while pleading me to fuck her is like a slap to the face I didn’t know I needed.

This isn’t right. We can’t do this. I can’t do this.

Not here. Not now. Not when she’s half asleep and barely fucking conscious, regardless of how wet her pussy is.

I like this woman. I more than like her.

She means more to me than I can even begin to comprehend.

But I can’t do this here, not like this.

She’s a virgin. And when the time finally comes, when I do get to claim her, it’s going to be special, not here, half-asleep, and especially not while I’m dressed in my fucking game day suit .

“Millie, stop.”

Millie doesn’t stop. She grips me tighter, kisses me harder, hips lifting and seeking more.

“Millie!” I say more firmly, hand back against her hip, holding her steady as I pull away and out of her lips’ reach.

Staring down at her, I take her in. Heaving chest, peaked nipples, kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, eyes wide and filled with lust which swiftly shifts to betrayal the longer we pause.

“You don’t want me?”

“What?” I almost laugh, incredulous. I swallow thickly. “Baby, I want you more than I want fucking air.”

Her brows knit together, evidently confused.

“But not like this,” I say, softly tucking her hair behind her ear.

Her lips purse together, and she’s suddenly pissed. I can see it in the way her eyes narrow just a touch. “Get out.”

“Millie, I?—”

She pushes me off her and I go willingly, heaving myself up and smoothing my hair back from my face.

Legs like jelly, dick like fucking steel, I steady myself as best as I can, looking down at her as she yanks the blanket back up to cover herself before rolling onto her side and turning away from me.

“You can leave now,” she huffs over shoulder.

And, on a heavy sigh that racks through me, I throw my head back, glaring up at the ceiling and cursing myself. If I were an asshole, I’d be deep inside her right now, without a second fucking thought. But I’m not an asshole. Far from it.

I bend over, collecting my shoes from the carpet and, with a quick glance at her, I release another sigh. “Goodnight, Millie.”

“ Goodnight, Millie ,” she mocks in a low tone that sounds nothing like me, by the way.

I know she’s pissed at me, and probably a little offended at being turned down, and I feel real fucking bad right now, but soon enough she’ll see. This means more to me. With Millie, I want more; I want it all. And, frankly, I’m not willing to settle for anything less.