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“Stove burner.”

I expected to see pity in her eyes, but there was none there when she lifted her face to mine. No, they were filled with anger and a touch of the rage that lived inside me.

“He pushed. I fell.” I shrugged.

She lowered her head and ran her lips over the horrific pattern that the tornado disguised within its swooping vortex. Again, some of the memory felt lighter to carry, as if she had somehow washed me clean.

When she rose, she moved forward until my cock rested against the smooth, warm skin of her belly. I hissed at the contact, pleasure shooting through me, sharp and sweet.

“You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she said as her hands rested on my chest. “I get it now. You didn’t just cover them up. You reclaimed your body. You took back control.”

“Yes.” My hands cupped her face. “But I have little to no control when it comes to you.”

Her gaze flickered to my lips, and my blood heated another degree. She rose on the balls of her feet as her hands traveled to my shoulders, and she tilted her face back slightly, waiting for my choice.

I should have walked away. The better man would have.

I was never the better man.

That last tether on my self-control unraveled, and I brought my mouth to hers. The kiss started soft, but then she opened under me. I growled, sinking into her kiss with deep, swirling thrusts of my tongue against hers. She arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I swept my hands down her body, bending slightly so I could reach her ass. She gasped with surprise as I lifted her easily, bringing her mouth level with mine. Her arms looped around my neck as her legs wrapped around my waist, her ankles locking neatly behind me.

She kissed me like she was starving for it—like she had to take every second of it just in case I changed my mind. The kiss moved from sinful and sexy to carnal as hell as I fucked her mouth with my tongue the way my cock ached to take her fully.

I turned toward the wall and anchored her against the smooth stone. She didn’t blink at the change in position, merely used the wall as leverage to push harder against me, rolling her hips so the head of my cock brushed over the wet lace of her thong.

“Fuck,” I groaned, shifting so one of my hands stroked over that same patch of lace from the cleft of her ass to the peak of her sex.

“Cannon!” She threaded her hands through my hair and held me still while she took her turn with my mouth, darting that little pink tongue against my teeth, the roof of my mouth, and my tongue.

I slid my fingers under her thong and found her soaked, wet with more than just the shower. She was slippery and swollen with need, with want for me. She made me feel powerful and weak, all in the same heartbeat.

“Please,” she murmured against my lips when I hesitated.

Her plea broke me in a way nothing else could, and I sank two fingers inside her pussy slowly. Fuck, the woman was soft, wet, silken fire.

She cried out, then tightened her thighs around me and lifted slightly, only to fall back on my fingers, riding me.

I was going to fucking lose it right here and now if I didn’t get away from her. This was it—the breaking point I’d tried so hard to keep from finding. My body rebelled at the thought of leaving hers, but my head knew it was the only way to keep her safe.

“We have to stop.” I barely recognized my own voice for the deep, sandpaper-rough way it came out.

She rose and fell again, moaning sweetly as she took my fingers to the hilt. Fuck, she was so god damned tight. When she rode up again, I thrust harder, then dragged my fingers along her inner wall as I retreated, only to push back in again and again.

“Fuck. I mean it. Persephone, you have to stop. We have to stop.” I pulled my fingers from the heat of her body and carried her from the shower while she protested.

“No, we don’t. Please, Cannon.” She looked at me with such stark need in her eyes that I nearly came undone. Instead, I set her on the counter and grabbed a soft, fluffy towel from the cabinet and wrapped her in it. Then I backed away, grabbing my own towel and wrapping it at my waist, which did nothing to disguise my erection.

“It’s for your own good.” My heartrate spiked at the effort it took to keep the five feet between us.

“My own good?” She hopped down from the counter, then dropped the towel.

I was stronger than this. I wasn’t some horny teenage boy. I was a fully grown man with a man’s appetite, and man’s ability to walk the fuck away.


Tags: Samantha Whiskey Carolina Reapers Romance