Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(45)

Footsteps.

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore the sound. It was just his imagination. She would come home when she was ready. He couldn’t conjure her up by his will alone.

When the door opened, his hand clenched so tight that the pencil between his fingers snapped. She stood outlined in the entrance looking so heartbreakingly stunning, he couldn’t form words. Her eyes were heavy with so many emotions, he couldn’t capture them all before she was striding toward him. Sex pounded in his ears. There was no other description for it. Her hips snapped side to side with every step, breasts swaying beneath her shirt. Erin always threw off sexual energy in waves, but she’d turned it up, daring him not to look at her tight thighs, her exposed belly, her parted mouth.

Talk to her. You have to talk. Out of self-preservation, Connor stood and started to put some distance between them. But he stopped. He couldn’t reject her touch again. He wouldn’t. Not when she needed it. Jesus, he needed it, too. With her standing in front of him, the desire was practically eating him alive, stripping him down until all that existed was her first touch. Where it would land. How it would wrangle the chaos inside, getting him hard at the same time. How she’d get aroused just by pressing her hands to his skin.

First, he needed to apologize. Needed her to know he understood what she went through on a daily basis now and things would be better. He’d make it so. “I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t know.”

Her steps didn’t slow. “Know what?”

“What it feels like.” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “When someone touches your pretty skin. My frustration is nothing compared to that. Nothing. I’ll never use it to hurt you.”

She came to a stop, her booted toes bumping his. “But I was counting on it.”

Confusion hit him. “What?”

The seductive way she looked up at him through her eyelashes caused base lust to swirl in his gut. Christ. What the hell was her game? Keeping her gaze locked on him, Erin started to undo his belt buckle. “I want you to f*ck me, Connor.”

His cock swelled so severely, he groaned through his teeth. “You don’t mean that. It’s too fast.” He watched her lower the zipper of his jeans and reach inside, palming his erection through his boxer briefs. Oh God, it felt so f*cking perfect, it took all his willpower not to thrust shamelessly into her grip. “Put your hands all over me, Erin. I’ll never ask you to stop again. But I won’t hurt you. I refuse.”

“Please.” She went up on her toes and nipped at his neck. “I’m feeling brave. Don’t tell me no. I might not feel this brave tomorrow.”

“There’s no ru—” She found his mouth at the same time her hand started to stroke his cock, making his breath shudder out against her lips. “I don’t want you brave. I want you ready.”

“I’m both.” A small sound escaped her. “What if I lost you?”

That plea had the effect of an air horn going off. He pulled back from her next attempt at a kiss. “Jesus, Erin. You think you’ll lose me if we don’t f*ck?”

“No.” Her eyes were mesmerizing, her voice velvet. “You were shot and I wasn’t there. Someone else fixed you when it should’ve been me. I need to feel you alive, moving inside me. Maybe it’s too late, but this is my way of healing you. Healing me. I need that, Connor. Give it to me.”

His insides felt razed, his chest wide open. Resisting wasn’t possible. She needed him, and he had only one goal in his life at that moment. Giving Erin what she needed. If someone tried to take that honor away from him, he would kill them where they stood. And sweet hell, he wanted to f*ck her. His body was crying out for the comfort of her *, the sound of her moans. Minutes ago, he’d sworn he could live without sex as long as necessary, but now, as she reached into his underwear and squeezed his throbbing arousal, he couldn’t sustain his willpower. All he could hope was that he did this right. Took her in a way that wouldn’t cause her too much pain. Or any at all, if he could help it.

“Go face the window. Brace your hands on the frame.”

Giving the order felt good. No, not good. Amazing. But he needed to focus on her. Every breath, every movement would be important. He’d damaged her trust today, yet somehow he’d earned another chance and he wouldn’t screw it up. If she needed to stop, he’d force himself to stop even if it killed him. As Erin went to the fire escape window and did as he asked, Connor let himself feast on the sight of her. That skirt, the one that had driven him crazy in the meeting this morning, molded to her ass like wet leather. His hunger demanded he rip it off, bend her over, and thrust home, finally take what had felt like his since day one. No, she was his. His to keep and care for. He needed to keep himself in check.

If you want to rule her world, learn to rule yourself first.

Connor came up behind her and placed his hands just below hers on the window frame. He didn’t allow their bodies to touch. Not yet. He kept his gaze trained on her reflection as he breathed, slow and easy on her neck. Her eyes closed, head falling to the side, the tension visibly draining from her body. She pressed her ass into his lap, but he didn’t move, just let her circle those hips against his aching cock. No moving until she was ready.

“I’m not going to use my hands this time, so I need your help. I need you to wet your * up for my cock. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”