Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(67)

Rake folded the flimsy fabric into a small, neat square, then tucked them into his back pocket.

“Those won’t fit you,” Lizzie said to the ceiling, letting her head loll back into the pillows as she turned up the intensity on her toy, enjoying the vibrations softly pulsing against her. She tried to focus on the feeling of silicone between her legs, instead of remembering Rake’s touch. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to drown him out of all her senses.

“And I said leave,” she added.

She hated how much she secretly liked that he was watching. Knowing he was looking at her sent a jolt of lust through her body, the tension building along her spine. She hated that it was thoughts of him that were getting her closer, instead of the mechanical toy that usually absorbed her mind during these moments.

Sex wasn’t supposed to have thoughts, only sensations.

“I don’t plan on just watching.” His voice was closer now, a gravelly whisper mixing with the vibrations humming through her body, pooling low in her belly and high in her chest.

Lizzie let out a gasp as tension built, taking her closer and closer to that mindless peak where she’d get rid of these mixed-up feelings for Rake. Her hips started grinding in a delicious rhythm. So close.

Almost

There

She sucked in a breath when she felt pleasure cresting over her, ready to ride the wave, but Rake’s hand wrapped over hers, lifting it and the toy. Lizzie jolted.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she snapped, glaring at him. He hovered over the mattress, his hand pressing hers against the sheets while his broad expanse of chest filled her view.

“What the actual fuck—”

Rake cut her off, pressing his lips against hers. Lizzie felt herself melt into the sensation of his hot mouth, before she remembered herself and pulled back, ready to snap again at him.

“I like when you get jealous, Lizzie,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth before biting into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip. She hated the groan that escaped her.

The room felt humid and stifling, his large form blocking out the light and creating a hazy golden glow around his body.

Rake started kissing her again, slower now, almost tender, and the hint of emotions made her squirm and push for more.

Tenderness was dangerous, and she needed to avoid it at all costs.

One hand still pinning hers to the bed, he used the free one to skim down her neck, his fingertips tickling her oversensitized skin, making her arch.

He continued his journey, allowing his palm to graze along her body, barely touching the swell of her breast, splaying across her ribs, then farther down over the curves of her stomach and hips, traveling down her thigh to her bent knee.

“What are you doing?” she said, breaking away from his kiss, pushing her spinning head into the pillow as every nerve ending zeroed in on the pressure of his hand on her knee.

“Can I touch you?”

The question caught Lizzie off guard. She’d never been asked so overtly, with such blatant need encased in restraint. It unnerved her.

“Because what you’ve been doing was…?” she said, trying to lighten the tension.

“Lizzie.” Something about the edge in his voice forced her eyes to his. He looked wild, desperate. She couldn’t hold his gaze longer than to give a tiny nod.

“Say it,” he growled, squeezing at the flesh of her thigh.

“Yes,” Lizzie gritted out through clenched teeth.

He shifted, kneeling between her parted thighs. He let go of her wrist, bringing both hands to rest on her knees, pushing her open, looking at her with wolfish hunger.

Rake stared at her until she couldn’t stand it, and Lizzie tried to squirm away. He soothed her by finally dragging his hands down the insides of her thighs, his fingers exerting different pressure points across her wet heat that sent sparks across her eyes. Her body started to relax again, waiting and desperate for him to touch her exactly where she needed.

He didn’t make her wait. Spreading her even more with one hand, he used the other to push into her while his thumb moved in a circular rhythm that had Lizzie’s neck tensing and back arching. Their eyes locked over her body, and it was too much. Too close. Lizzie needed to escape what she saw in his look. She’d never been shy about sex. Never abashed about being naked or touched.

But something about the way Rake studied her body, responded to her sounds, made her feel overexposed. Shy. Like he saw too much.

“I’ve missed hearing you moan,” he whispered, his voice like a caress down the center of her body, pleasure igniting along every nerve.

“I thought you said no sex,” she ground out between pants, trying to shoot him a coy smile.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asked, plunging in deeper and curving his fingers in a way that stole the breath from her lungs and had her vision blurring at the edges. Rake hummed in satisfaction. “I guess that does the trick,” he said, moving to press his smile against the inside of her knee as she shot him the dirtiest look she could muster.

But she wanted more.

Lizzie wanted pressure and sweat and teeth.

She sat up, tearing at his suit jacket and ripping off his belt buckle. She had him stripped to his boxer briefs in no time. Lizzie pushed him down on the bed, straddling his hips as she ground herself against him.

Rake groaned and pressed his head into the pillows, tendons and muscles sticking out of his neck as she rubbed back and forth against his length.