Page 106 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

DEREK

Maybe she doesn’t sound exactly like a giraffe.

More like a pent-up, turned-on woman who wants what I have to give her. It’s a kiss to drive her wild. A kiss she can take to bed tonight, that she’ll bring under the covers, replaying every touch and taste so she can get herself all the way off in mere minutes.

That’s how I kiss her.

Like I want to fuck her. That’s the only way this woman ought to be kissed. Her back is against the couch cushion, and I lean into her and crush her lips, claiming her with my mouth. With my hands. With my body.

I bring her closer, letting her know that when I kiss her, she’s all mine.

She moans into my mouth as I grapple with her ponytail, yanking it down, letting the lush strands fall over my fingers.

As I do, she murmurs, sinking into the kiss, letting me guide her head back to expose that seductive neck. A neck I’ve wanted to touch from the second I met her.

As I kiss her senseless, she melts under me. I tug harder on her hair, and she moans louder. Her head falls against the pillow, and I let go of her lips, traveling to the V of her shirt.

She whimpers as I kiss the hollow of her throat.

“You like that?” I flick my tongue over her skin, and she nods, panting a hot, breathy yes .

I give her more of what she likes, mapping her neck with my mouth, kissing the column of her throat, making her squirm with every touch of my tongue and brush of my lips. Her hands inch up my chest, her fingers playing over my abs, my pecs, the waistband of my shorts.

But I know this woman’s needs. I grab her hands, thread my fingers through hers, and pin her wrists at her sides. The sound she makes is one of bliss as I grip her like that, kissing her neck, her ears, her hair, until she bows her body up off the couch.

“You’re so turned on,” I murmur.

“It’s your fault.”

“I’ll take all the blame.”

Then I grip her hands tighter, and in a flash, I shift positions, sinking to half recline on the couch and pulling her on top so she straddles me, knees on either side of my thighs.

“We can’t do this.” Her green eyes are wide with hunger and questions. “Remember? No mercy, no sympathy?”

I let go of her hands and run my fingers up her neck and into her red locks. I tug her hair. “I’m not breaking any rules.”

She grinds her pelvis against my erection, and a shudder racks my body. She dips deeper, rubbing against my hard shaft, creating a delicious friction even with my shorts and her yoga pants between us. Lust rolls around inside me, flooding every corner. “Feels like you are,” she whispers.

“Is it a crime to be turned on in the presence of a beautiful woman?” I jerk her against the outline of my cock, moving her hips so she rubs and drives me out of my fucking mind. Pleasure grips me in a white-hot blur of agonizing desire.

“No crime here,” she pants as she rocks against my erection.

Her eyes float closed and her shoulders sink, and she grinds.

Dipping, rising, swiveling... It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and somehow it’s even more erotic as I watch her face, cataloging her expression as it shifts from deepening pleasure to wild need to exquisite torture.

“Fuck, kitten. You’re going to look so good riding my cock.”

She nods slowly as if she’s in a haze. Grabbing her wrists, I move them behind her back and grasp them tighter. She breathes harder, letting me know she likes it when I take control.

“Yeah, just like that, kitten. Keep doing that. Keep rubbing against my dick. Get yourself off.”

“I don’t think . . .”

“You don’t think what?”

Her lips part. Her lids are heavy. “I don’t think there are kisses like this in the contest.”

“Fuck the contest. Fuck me instead.”

She opens her eyes, and I’ve never seen a woman more on the brink. “We said . . . we wouldn’t . . . do this.”

“Do it once. I won’t tell you broke the ‘no foreplay’ rule. Ride me till you come hard.”

She sinks against my hard-on again, grinding herself on me, rubbing harder.

Then she squeezes her eyes shut and pauses mid-grind. She counts to three aloud and snaps open her eyes.

She’s a different woman now. Cool, calm, in control. How the hell does she do that? She’s like the clap-on-clap-off device.

“Can we rewind? Go back to the chicken and broccoli?” she asks, calm as a yogi.

“Seriously?”

“This is too dangerous when we’re living under the same roof.”

I groan, releasing her wrists. My head drops, falling to her chest.

Oops.

Bad idea.

I’m in her tits.

Wait. Nope. Good idea, great idea, best idea ever. I’ll just curl up and spend the night in the valley between these two perfect globes. Except there’s something I want to know. “How did you go from nearly riding me to kingdom come to wanting broccoli?”

She pats my head, threading her fingers through my hair. “I’m a hard-working woman, and I’m hungry.”

I raise my face. “You can work hard on my dick.”

She laughs. “Where’s that restraint, McBride? Where’s that whole let’s-follow-the-ground-rules attitude?”

I cup her cheeks hard, loving the way her eyes fill with flames in an instant. “That was your idea, kitten.”

“You went along with it. We agreed.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Plus, to answer your question, I have excellent restraint.”

“Oh, is that so?”

She smiles proudly. “I do. It’s impressive, my resistance.”

“What a cocky babe you are.”

“Takes one to know one.”

I laugh then groan in frustration. Because my brain and my heart know she’s right. I can’t let the overwhelming lust I feel for this woman carry me away. I’m living with her. I desperately need a place to stay. And fucking would absolutely fuck it up.

So I can’t screw resistance .

I collect myself, gently move her off me, and affect a good-boy smile. “Look, I’m not even aroused anymore.”

That’s a lie. I’m sporting huge wood.

Her eyes drift to my lap. “Yup. Not even aroused in the least. Nor am I.”

I roam my eyes over her. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. Beaded nipples. “Good. Because you don’t seem turned on at all.”

“I’m so not turned on. I totally wasn’t about to orgasm.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “I definitely wasn’t on the cusp of coming in my shorts like a teenager.”

She laughs, letting her head fall into her hands as she cracks up.

When the laughter subsides, she stands, her hair messed up, her cheeks rosy. “Listen, we need to behave. We both want and need the same thing. We need each other as roomies, not as lovers. Besides, neither one of us wants anything more.”

“Exactly. Screw relationships. Let’s have some grub.”

And on that cock-blocked note, I head into the kitchen and cook for my woman.

I mean, my landlord.

The hot, sexy landlord who nearly came on my lap.