Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(74)

“Oh, we’re back to Rosalie. That’s at least a step in the right direction. Maybe that means you’re over wanting to fuck me and we can?—”

I press a finger to her mouth, startling her into silence.

And then I speak very, very clearly.

“I’m never going to get over wanting to fuck you. And something tells me you won’t care what I call you when I do.”

Her eyes widen like she’s about to say something, and I press my finger down harder. Watching the flesh of her lips give way beneath it.

“You told me nothing would change.” She nods along. “Except everything changed. You changed. I changed. We changed.”

She stops nodding—stops breathing.

“Because I spent all weekend tortured over you.” I spit the words out in frustration. “I was supposed to be having a great time, but all I could think about was you. I’ve been obsessed with you for years, and I don’t even know if I fully realized it. I’ve heard about you through the grapevine—looked you up online. I’ve gone a decade without laying eyes on you, satisfied that you were doing what you wanted to be doing. But it never felt like this weekend did.”

She smirks now, challenge flaring in her eyes. “Good. I hope you were miserable,” she says against my digit. “I know I was.”

My hand shifts and I grip her chin. “Stop playing that game with me. We’re not kids anymore.”

“What game?”

“The one where we pretend to hate each other.”

She tips her chin up defiantly. “You do hate me. That’s our safe place. You have to hate me. It’s easier that way.”

I shake my head, molars grinding. “I definitely don’t hate you, Rosie. Not even close. But I can fuck you like I do if that’s what you need.”

Her chest rises and falls, eyes ablaze. Gaze searching. The moment is fraught, like the seconds before a race starts.

Finally, her brow quirks. “Do you need a formal invitation or something?”

And those are the words that have every obstacle between us evaporating on the spot.

I flip her around roughly and step in close behind her as I bend her body at the hips. Her hands slap loudly in the quiet office as her palms hit the flat surface of my desk.

“Stay like that, Rosie. Claws where I can see them.”

She gives the computer screen on my desk a nudge to make room for her spread fingers and it goes crashing to the floor.

I laugh. “Brat.”

Then I’m gripping the hem of her tight-as-hell pencil skirt, tugging it up over her smooth thighs. Shoving higher so it’s bunched around her waist. Her black thong outlines the globes of her ass.

I grip them hard. I know she can take it.

“This ass has been haunting me, Rosalie. That formal enough for you?”

All I get is a flip of hair and a flash of a flushed cheek as she glares at me from over her shoulder. “Fuck you, Ford.”

I smirk. The one I know does nothing but piss her off. “You’re about to be, Rosie.”

I yank her panties down to her thighs and kick her feet apart so she’s spread for me. I pause, taking her in. The black underwear stretched between her legs. The way her stilettos accentuate her calves. The glare she’s still giving me from over her shoulder.

Her brow arches. “Do you need me to explain to you what to do next?”

I work on my belt with one hand, using the other to rub up over the column of her spine beneath her shirt and jacket, forcing her down onto her elbows. My hand continues its perusal, across her shoulder, a tight squeeze at her throat, before I hook two fingers into her mouth.

I shove my jeans down, working on my boxers as I lean over her body and whisper in her ear, “No, I think I prefer you with your ass up and your mouth stuffed.”

Her lips close around my fingers and her teeth bare down in warning. My dick comes free, and I don’t waste any time lining us up and running the tip over her to test how wet she is.

I groan at the contact, then growl against her neck, “This pussy is fucking soaked. Just like I knew it’d be.”

Her hips shimmy and I hear her muffled, “I hate you,” from around my fingers.

I don’t take it personally. It’s always been like this between us. We say one thing and mean another. So I answer, “I hate you too.”

She’s already hot, worked up, and pulsing beneath me, but now she widens her stance and arches her back, urging me on.

I push the head of my cock into her, and we both groan. I pull back out and her chin tips forward on a desperate whimper.

“More.”

“You’re awfully eager for my cock, considering how much you hate me. Aren’t you, Rosie?”

I press my lips down on my tongue as I swipe myself through her wetness again, waiting for her to retaliate for that comment.

And she does.

She bites down hard on my fingers, but I don’t remove them. I dig the fingers of my other hand into her hip and thrust forward, impaling her on my full length.

“Oh god,” she moans, and I watch her fingers curl against the desk.

“Should I stop?” I grit out, trying to get myself under control.

“Mmm,” she hums around my fingers. Her bite transforms into a firm suck.

My breathing goes ragged when I look down and see myself inside her. When I feel her clenching around me. “So fucking tight.”