Page 29 of Turn Me On
“Of course I did,” I say.
I figured out within a minute of meeting Zane that he was the kind of man I wanted to go home with, and that’s rare for me—to know that, to see that, and to desire that so quickly. In the last few days, I’ve seen a little of his heart, some of his need. The more I learn, the more I like, and the harder it becomes to fight my desires.
Especially when he’s touching me.
Slowly, Zane’s gaze drifts down to his hands, curled tight around my shoulders. I want him to grab me with those big hands. Then throw me down on the bed. Pin me under him.Take me.
It’s fucking embarrassing how deep this desire tunnels into me, how far it claws through my chest. The last man I was with didn’t understand what I craved or why I craved it. Most men don’t know what to make of the sex I want, the intimacy I need. That’s why I hardly ever do hookups. I need to trust the guy I’m with, which rarely comes with a guy I meet on an app or for a one-night stand.
But you were willing to have a one-night stand with Zane when you met him.
“Thanks for waking me up,” he says.
“Anytime,” I say, hoping this moment never ends. I hope he doesn’t stop holding my shoulders. Maybe he senses my need, since his grip on me strengthens like he can’t let go. He closes his eyes, wincing. When he opens them, his voice is a scrape on the night. “What’s that ocean smell?”
I think I know, but I’ve got to make sure I understand his meaning. “The ocean’s not near here.”
“You. On you. It’s been driving me fucking crazy.”
A spark of hope races down my chest. “It’s my shampoo,” I say. It feels like sharing a secret with a lover.
“I thought it was your aftershave,” he whispers, sounding relieved, as if he’s been hunting for the answer for ages.
My mind is hazy with heat. “That’s Cedar Falls. The scent and the name of the aftershave. The shampoo is something like Ocean Breeze.” My heart beats in my throat, powered by wild lust that has me rambling about inconsequential details.
Zane leans in like he’s coming for a kiss and, God help me, I won’t stop him if he does. But he veers to the right, his lips brushing ever so gently across the shell of my ear, making me groan.
He runs his nose through my hair, inhaling deeply with a murmuredmmm.
I think I might be made of liquid everywhere but my dick. That’s an iron spike, and I moan, low and long and unstoppable.
His mouth brushes against the top of my ear. “You on your hands and knees,” he mutters.
My body goes red-hot. “Every night I picture that,” I say, skin burning, pulse surging.
“Every night?” he asks, full of dirty wonder.
“Every night since I met you,” I answer.
The rumble from his throat is feral. “Your hands tied behind your back,” he continues, squeezing my shoulders now.
That. I want that. I need that after dark.
I breathe out hard, dick thumping against my jeans. “My face in the pillow,” I say, taking my turn in this paint-by-numbers game.
“My hand pushing you down…right here,” he says in my ear, easing his grip to let his hand stray to the spot between my shoulder blades. He presses with the tips of his fingers.Hard.
Yes, fucking yes. “You driving into me,” I offer. I won’t stop this scene we’re imagining. I want it too badly.
“Me, taking you apart,” he murmurs.
The feel of his hands, the sound of his breath, the weight of his want—it’s a drug, and I’m lost in the high. “Please,” I say, begging him. I’m ready to saycome home with me.
But voices carry to us from beyond the cabana. A woman’s laughter, footsteps moving past, glasses clinking as someone gathers them up. We’re not alone. And we shouldn’t be alone.
I rip apart from him at the same moment he jerks back.
We’re both panting. His face is flushed. Mine burns hot. “I need to drive you back to your hotel,” I say, grasping at the straw of reality. “You have a game tomorrow. You need your sleep.”