Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

There were no awkward questions. No small talk or offer of a drink. No comment about the weather or if this was still what we wanted.

We knew this was what we wanted.

Everything else didn’t fucking matter.

Taking another step toward me, she murmured, “I can finally talk at a normal decibel and not have to scream.” She rubbed her throat, stealing all my attention and locking it on her neck. “My throat is still a little scratchy from the flu.”

Remembering her sickness a few days ago did nothing to cool my libido. Unashamedly, I rearranged my cock. I didn’t care that I was touching myself in front of her.

I think we were past that stage. Flew past it actually—we’d shot past go and didn’t bother collecting two hundred dollars.

“Oh yeah? Do you have things you want to say?” My voice strained. I had no idea why I hadn’t attacked her yet, but for some reason, I enjoyed the way she stalked toward me.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Plenty to say.”

My heart leapt into my mouth. “Like what?”

Once again, I waited for her to be coy and avoid the question, but she locked eyes. “Like how good your cock felt in my hands.” Her gaze dropped to where my erection lurched in my trousers like a dog yanked to heel. “When you told me I could touch it, I wanted to tell you there would never be a chance. I told myself I didn’t want to touch it. That I would never ever want to do that.”

My hearing faltered as my heart formed its own brass band and made me pant. “And now? I take it you’ve changed your mind?”

She smiled. “Changed my mind? Oh, I’ve changed my mind all right.” Crossing the final feet between us, she whispered, “I’ve decided I want to taste it.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

I snapped.

Grabbing her by the back of the neck, I wrenched her forward. Instead of squirming or pulling away, her fingers dug into my t-shirt and jerked me as hard as I jerked her.

Our lips crashed together, our tongues fighting for supremacy before we’d even wrapped our arms around each other.

She moaned.

I groaned.

Our kiss became a warzone as our heads danced, tongues licked, lips bruised.

We tried to crawl inside each other.

Her leg came up over my hip. My hand went under her ass, half picking her up to do—fuck if I knew. If I could somehow tear away our jeans right here, right now, I would. I’d climb inside her and never leave.

However, the only things that could connect currently were our mouths.

And shit, did they connect.

I didn’t know who kissed harder, but we both cried out as teeth crashed and tongues tied we licked so deep.

“Christ, Vesper.” Dragging her over to the couch, I was thankful the cat had vanished because he would’ve been a flat cat as I let gravity yank us downward.

Turning her around, I fell backward blindly, taking her with me. She landed on my lap with a gasp but our lips never untangled.

Her hands landed in my hair and mine copied hers. We didn’t cradle each other’s heads, we fucking mauled them.

She wasn’t gentle.

I wasn’t gentle.

All my life, I’d shielded how feral I could get in sex. I’d never let my guard down. I’d never gone where I wanted to go. Most of the time, I kept my heart and soul tucked safely behind my walls.