“Y-you…” She stopped. Licked her dry lips. Swallowed. “You really are a conceited wanker, aren’t you?”
The insult fell from her in a rasping whisper.
Her belly churned. Her pussy fluttered.
Desmond’s lips curled in a slow, arrogant smile. “And yet, there’s something you really want to do to me now, isn’t there?”
Jess’s breath stuck in her throat. An image of them both utterly naked and dripping in sweat flashed through her head. Desmond was pinning her wrists to a wall with one hand as he yanked her leg up beside his hip, pumping deep and hard inside her with long, powerful thrusts.
A soft whimper escaped her at the thought.
Desmond’s pupils dilated at the sound. His nostrils flared. He held her imprisoned with his blue gaze, not moving, not drawing closer to her or touching her in any way. Just holding her with the potent force of his stare.
And the dominating hunger in his eyes. “Isn’t there, Captain Montgomery?”
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh—
“Submit to it,” he murmured, his voice a smooth caress, like velvet and whiskey and everything male she’d ever fantasied about. “Do what you want to do and do it now.”
“And if what I want is to knee you in the balls?” she whispered, even as her breasts grew heavier with the need to be touched…sucked.
“It isn’t.”
“What do you think I want to do, Des?”
His nostrils flared again. “Kiss me.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her sex throbbed in perfect harmony, a rhythm of undeniable, wanton desire.
And surrender.
Oh god, was she really going to—
“Kiss me, Captain.”
It was the raw urgency she heard in his voice that undid her.
Before she could question her sanity, she gave herself over to the elemental desire searing through her. Surrendered to the unexpected need he awoke in her.
Submitted to it.
And kissed him.