“Hmm.”
I’ve made her speechless. Although, I’m not much better. I only got one word out.
I have to take back control. I can’t let her affect me. I have to beat her at her own game.
I lick my lips.
Her mouth parts.
The air changes—she’s in a daze.
“Kiss me,” she says suddenly.
She’s lost her mind, but she doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I press my lips against hers, reveling in how incredible her soft lips feel against mine. But I’m greedy, and I want more than just the softness. I want the taste of her sweetness, the battle of her tongue with mine, the moans she makes when I make her feel alive.
This kiss is just as mind-blowing as our last kiss and so much more. This kiss isn’t about chasing demons away. This kiss is about need, desire, want. It’s about taking back what’s mine.
I don’t give a damn if Liesel is married or not. I can steal her back either way.
“Tell me to stop,” I say against her lips.
“Sss…” She doesn’t make it past the first letter before she’s kissing me again.
I smirk against her lips, slowing her kisses. As much as I would love to lose myself in this kiss, I can’t. I’m here on a mission, and I won’t let earth-shattering kisses stand in my way.
“So, you’re a cheater, then?” I ask as I pull her hips tightly against mine, pressing my hardness against her jeans.
“Huh?” she moans.
“You have an open marriage? Waylon doesn’t mind you kissing strange men?”
“What? No.”
She puts her empty hand against my chest.
“Tell me to stop,” I repeat.
She breathes hard and fast, her lips devouring over mine. She rocks back and forward, letting our hips rub before falling back.
She wants this.
She wants me.
But something is holding her back. Is she really married? Is she just dating that asshole? Does she not care about him at all?
“Sto…” She takes a deep breath. “Stop.”
“That took far too long for a married woman. Unless you don’t mind being a cheater?”
“I’m not a cheater,” she growls, getting her voice back.
“You’re the one who asked me to kiss you.” I don’t back away. My hands are still on her hips, and hers are now both on my chest, still holding the knife. But she doesn’t push me away. She lets me stay close.
“I. Am. Not. A. Cheater.”
“Then you’re not married?”