Real (Real, #1)(3)

But f*ck if I know what it is about her—something different, challenge or not—that’s got me reaching my free hand out and running it up her arm, across the curve of her neck, and over her cheek.

I don’t want to want her. Don’t need her. Shit, a simple text will have Raquel in my bed in a heartbeat for a nightcap. Fuck, she’s probably already there. Our arrangement may be nearing its end, but she’s still game.

And she has mad skills.

But there’s something about crazy fangirl that has me looking twice, has me forgetting this is a game.

Those eyes. Those curls, wild and fallen from her clip, looking like they’ve been f*cked loose. Those plump, perfectly parted lips. Sweet Christ. I just might have to let her win this game because damn, she’s not playing fair.

Options of how to play her flicker through my head. Dive right in and consider the consequences later or draw this out and have some fun with her?

Then she sucks in a ragged breath that let’s me know she’s affected. Let’s me know she’s bitten off more than she can chew. Hints at that little bit of vulnerability I see flicker in her eyes. And that sound—the subtle shudder telling me her body wants to betray her mind’s warning to steer clear of me—is such a f*cking turn on.

And desire overwhelms all logic.

Testosterone wins.

Just a little taste.

“Oh f*ck it!” I slant my mouth over hers and use her surprised gasp to slip my tongue between her now parted lips. To taste what she’s offering. Holy shit! Talk about knocking me off of my stride. The woman tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before. You hear addicts say that their first line of coke is what hooks them, causes them to do irrational things for the next fix. I finally get it.

Sweet. Innocent. Sexy. Willing.

Fuckin’ A.

And before I can take more of what I suddenly want very badly, game be damned, she struggles and breaks her lips from mine.

Only one thought fills my head. Clouds my resolve.

More.

Her pulse quickens beneath my palm. Her panted breaths mix with mine. Her eyes flash with confusion and fear. And desire.

More.

“Decide, sweetheart,” I demand, an unbidden ache settling deep in my balls and taking hold. “A man only has so much restraint.”

Her eyes, so much contradiction flashes through them; they say “come f*ck me” and “stay the f*ck away” at the same time. Her lips part and then close. Her hands fist my lapel, indecision warring across her stunning features. Why the sudden resistance when she’s getting exactly what she came here looking for? Did the stakes just become too real for her? Ah … a boyfriend then. How can she not have one when she looks like that?

She just stares at me, eyes blank but body still responding, as every nerve within me shouts to drag her against me and take until I get my fill of her addictive taste. Time’s up, sweetheart. Decision’s mine now. I’ll show her what she wants. Give her what the boyfriend doesn’t. She had her chance to walk away and she didn’t. I sure as hell am not. I always get what I want.

And right now, I want her.

I tighten my fingers on her neck, unable to hold back the smile on my lips as I think about pressing into her soft curves and wet *. And then I move. She resists as I claim her mouth. I’m skilled but far from gentle as I coax her trembling lips open and take my next fix.

One more taste.

That’s all I want. I lick my tongue against hers. Probing. Tasting. Demanding.

Sweet f*cking Jesus. That’s the only thought I can manage when she begins to respond, our bodies connecting, her tongue playing with mine. Her hands move, fingernails scraping along my jaw, and fist in my hair. A f*cking inferno burns its way down my spine and into my gut, a groan falling from my mouth as her body moves against my rock hard dick. Her soft yielding to my steel.

Every primal urge in my body begs to touch her, to claim her as mine. I drag one hand down the curved lines of her hips, our bodies vibrating with adrenaline and desire. I put one hand on her back pressing her into me, my cock against her stomach, my knee wedging between hers. She responds instantly, the Holy Grail between her thighs rubbing against my leg so I can feel her wet and wanting * through my slacks.

So f*cking responsive. Her body just complies with the subtlest hints from mine, reacts to the slightest touch. Takes selflessly. Submits willingly.

God, I want to corrupt her.

And then she makes the softest, most erotic f*cking sound I’ve ever heard. A gentle moan that begs and pleads and offers all at the same time.

And I’m decided. Consumed. Determined.

Fuck the game.

Mine.

I want her. Have to have her. I’m calling the shots now. Adrenaline hits me, coursing through me like the wave of the green flag.

I need to make her mine.

I nip her lower lip then lick away the sting. Pleasure to bury the pain. “Christ, I want you right now.” I murmur against her lips between kisses, my dick throbbing at the thought of slamming into her. My hands move to possess now. Desire fueling my fire. Fingers rub over hardened nipples just begging to be tasted as we crash against the wall. My hands roam to connect with naked flesh. I reach the silk of her nylons and skim my way up until I trace the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings. I groan into her mouth.

Motherf*cking perfection. Silk, lace, and skin. If it’s possible to get any harder, I just did.