Page 188 of Fractured Future

“No, Ember. You don’t. You want a hell of a lot more than what I ever offered.”

Lowering his head, Warner doesn’t kiss me.

“But maybe… that’s okay.”

His lips ghost over my throat, neck, collarbone. Down the deep canyons between my breasts until his teeth are grazing the stiff peaks of my nipples pushing against soaked Lycra.

The slightest friction causes me to moan, wantonly bleating for more. His teeth bite down on my right nipple through the sports bra, sending pulses of hunger into my clenched core.

“You want me to share you?” His hand moves to seize a firm handful of my other breast. “To share the woman I’ve loved since we were kids with the men I call my brothers?”

“Yes. That’s what I want.”

His filthy words feel so right. Like fucking kismet. That utterly insane idea somehow sounds like the only thing that will make me feel whole.

Shifting down my body, Warner seizes the waistband of my workout leggings. I automatically lift my hips when he starts to drag them down, exposing my plain, black panties.

He’s moving torturously slowly. Examining every muscle, faded scar and inch of goose-pimpled skin like he’s seeing me for the first time. The leggings are soon tossed over his shoulder.

“What happened to that shy little girl?” His gaze roves over me.

Back arching, I push my trembling legs open for him. “She grew up.”

“And became a hell of a lot more demanding.”

Just when I think he’s going to relieve this endless tension sending my system into overdrive, Warner sits back on his ass. He has to lift and drag his right leg around to position it comfortably.

“What’s wrong?” I prop up onto my forearms.

“You’re asking for a lot from me.” He shrugs, though his ablaze eyes tell a different story. “First show me how much you want it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to touch you, Em. I can’t do that without losing control.”

Feeling the urge to punch him in the face again, I have to strangle my compounding rage. “Asshole!”

“Show me how well you take care of yourself.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Aghast at his newfound cocky attitude, I merely stare. Warner doesn’t show a crack of hesitation. The evil son of a bitch isn’t going to touch me. Not that easily.

I’ve never been afraid to take what I want in life. If he wants to play this game, I can play twice as hard. Soon, he’ll be begging to crawl between my legs to make it up to me.

Holding intense eye contact, I trail my fingertips over my stomach and thighs, intensifying the lively tingles unfurling at my centre. Warner is completely focused on me.

Knowing he’s watching but preventing himself from laying a single finger on me adds a dimension to this charade that feels entirely new. I’ve never performed for a man before. Or so brazenly taunted one.

My hand travels beneath my panties, stretching the bounds of the elastic. I tug the soaked cotton to one side, revealing my bareness to him. With a curse, Warner scrunches his hands into fists.

“I could be yours,” I purr at the sight of his indecision. “I want to be.”

“Fuck, love.”

“Do you think I let many people own me, Warner?”