Page 84 of Middle Ground

Her chin tips up, defiant as always. “And if I am?”

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is help you, baby.” I surge forward, cupping the back of her head and drawing her toward me. “Let me help you.”

When our lips meet again, Meyer doesn’t hesitate to open for me. It still awes me how free she is with her body, yet so reserved with her mind. I want to crack her open, lay bare all her thoughts. I want her to feel comfortable confiding everything in me.

For now, we have this.

“Inside?” I ask between kisses.

“Inside,” she agrees.

She peels herself away from me and spins around. As she fiddles with her clutch to find her keys, I wrap anarm around her. With my palm on her lower belly, I pull her back into me. She moans as she feels just how much I want this—wanther.

“Stop distracting me,” she scolds.

“I had to watch you walk around all night looking likethis,” I reply, running a hand along her bare shoulder. “You don’t get to say anything about distractions.”

Meyer finally fits the key inside the lock, and then we’re stumbling inside. As soon as the door shuts behind us, my mouth is back on hers. She’s positively addicting, and I can’t stop.

“This fucking dress,” I murmur against her lips, “has got to go.”

There are entirely too many layers between us and I want them allgone.

“You don’t like it?” she teases, her voice breathy.

“In general? Love it. Looks like it was made just for you. At the moment? Not particularly.” I meet her bright eyes. They’re vivid blue, like the sky after the storm clouds have disappeared. “Right now, it’s in my way.”

“Do something about it, then.”

Don’t have to tell me twice.

I guide her back toward the kitchen island until she bumps against the edge of the countertop. Her back arches, her chest brushing against mine.

“One second.”

She watches me intently as I reach up to her hair. It takes me a few seconds, but I manage to tug the clips and pins from the strands, allowing them to fall over her shoulders.

Meyer’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Happy now?”

“Almost. Just one more thing.”

I really wasn’t lying about the dress being in my way. As much as I love the way it accentuates my favourite parts of her body, right now, I need it gone. I tear at the fabric, working to free those tits that drive me absolutely wild. In the process, I hear the unmistakeable sound of material ripping. The front of her dress now gapes open, the seam torn.

Meyer gasps. “Jackson! This cost me two hundred dollars.”

I shrug. “I’ll buy you a new one."

I’d buy her a whole store full of dresses if that would make her happy.

She frowns. “That’s just throwing money away.”

“Worth every fucking penny.” My eyes drink her in. Her lips are swollen, her hair cascades in waves over her shoulders, and her torn dress reveals her hardened nipples. And those blue eyes I adore are clouded in lust. “I love you like this, baby. Love knowing that I’m the one who makes you unravel.”

Meyer grips the lapels of my suit. “You’re awfully cocky this evening, Mr. Vaughan,” she muses. She lets go of my jacket and runs her hands down my chest, my stomach. Stopping at the buckle of my belt, she looks up at me, a sly smile on her lips.

I pull her hands away from my belt. “No. You had your fun last time. Now it’s my turn.” I tug on the lobe of her ear with my teeth. Then I set my tone low as I murmur in her ear. “So you’re going to be a good fucking girl and turn around for me.”

I can see that spark of rebellion in her eyes—that part of her that likes saying no just for the hell of it. But it’s gone just as fast, replaced by pure heat. Try as she might to deny it, this turns her on.