“Can’t do this,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Fuck me, I don’t know.”
Her tongue plunges into my mouth.
My cock is hard as iron. I can’t touch her enough. Feel her enough. Remember her enough.
Fuck, Hawaii was good.
When she was just a random woman having a tough night, and all of my primitive take care of her neurons fired and I felt good about myself and my own worth as a human being for what felt like the first time in forever.
I want to feel that again.
She’s not a safe choice. I know she hates what I’m doing here.
But she understands.
And she’s still kissing me.
Maybe I’m still the moron who doesn’t know she’s using sex to manipulate me.
If I am, I don’t care. I’m not changing my mind about what I’m doing merely because she’s boosting herself onto the table and wrapping her legs around my hips and arching her pussy against my aching dick.
“Oh, fuck, no,” she suddenly gasps.
“What? What?”
“Walked in—Emma—here—move. Move.”
Is she saying—nope.
Don’t care.
I lift her, cradling her ass in my hands while she moans and threads her fingers through my hair and kisses me like I’m the missing piece to her puzzle. And in four steps, I’m shoving her against the back door while I kiss her back like she’s the missing puzzle to my lone piece.
She squeezes her legs tighter.
I knead my fingers into her strong ass muscles, pressing my erection against her center through our clothes while she moans in my mouth.
I’m not this guy.
Lust doesn’t make me lose my mind.
But I want her naked.
I want her naked and I want to take her against this door and make her eyes light up with that sparkle she had in Hawaii again, and then I want to tell her all of my secrets so I don’t have to carry them alone either.
I am so fucked.
This is not how this trip is supposed to go.
“Oh, god, Grey,” she pants, and my name on her lips makes me even harder. “There. There—no. Nope. Grandpa—my eyes—move. Move.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“My eyes. But your cock.” She flexes her hips and whimpers.
So do I.
Can’t lie here.
“I want your cock,” she whispers.
“Parking lot.”
“Cousin.”
I recoil.
“Other cousin. Triplet. Your hair is so soft. How is your hair so soft?” She strokes me behind my ears, then around to my jaw, her fingers skimming my short beard until she’s somehow managed to draw me in to kiss her again.
“Dining room?” I murmur between kisses.
“Windows.”
Shit. “The dog house?”
“Fridge. Against the fridge.”
Done.
I spin again and almost slam her into the prep table when she shifts, rocking her pelvis against my overachieving dick and sending me spiraling toward a head rush.
Shit.
Shit fuck shit fuck not now.
I blink, breathe deep, and will it to pass.
“Grey?” Sabrina whispers.
“You’re too fucking hot,” I force out, and as the words leave me, so do the impending dots in my vision.
“That’s why we can’t do it on the stove,” she says.
Know the last time I laughed while I was kissing a woman who was unbuttoning my shirt as I carried her across a kitchen to shove her against a fridge?
Never.
But I’m in.
Maybe it’s lack of sleep.
Maybe it’s lack of regular sex in the past two years.
Maybe it’s the constant visions of her pleasuring herself with a vibrator on the other side of my bedroom wall every time I accidentally hear her brushing her teeth.
Maybe it’s reminders of Hawaii.
Maybe it’s that I like her.
She finishes with my buttons while still kissing me and shoves my shirt off my shoulders, then roams cool hands over my chest. “It’s so wrong that you’re this hot,” she breathes against my collarbone.
And then she bites it.
My dick strains harder. A tiny gasp slips from her mouth, and she rocks her hips against me once more.
I tug her shirt.
She reaches between us and pops the button on my pants, then dips her hand inside and brushes the tip of my dick.
I whimper.
Cannot help myself. “More.”
She rocks against my shaft and swirls her thumb around my head again.
My eyes cross.
My head falls to her shoulder.
I breathe in coffee and snow and warmth, her hair tickling my cheek, and thrust into her touch. “Why—you?”