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“I drank out of yours.”
I stall. “And how was that for you?”
A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, making my stomach flutter.
I twist his shirt inside my fists. He’s refusing to move any closer. It’s like he’s adamant he won’t be the one to take us past this line.
But ever since I met him, I’ve been unable to resist pushing Jet Grant. The flare in his blue eyes when I do is a thrill I doubt I’ll ever grow tired of. There’s something dangerously addictive about it.
“I bet you’re a terrible kisser because you can’t ever let go.”
One of his thick dark brows arches, but he remains rooted to the spot, making no move to prove me wrong.
“It’ll be like kissing a dead fish.” I lean closer. “Absolutely terrible…”
I slam my lips against his, expecting him to stiffen and push me away. Or to be uptight and awkward.
He’s none of those things.
He groans, and my knees buckle as he pins me against the tree. He sinks both of his hands into my hair and kisses me back. Feverishly.
I swallow back every word.
Jet kisses with a ferocity that floors me. But I refuse to let him win. So I match him. Stroke for stroke.Groan for groan. Desperate, groping hand for groping hand.
Jet Grant’s kiss could launch rockets, end famine,destroyhearts.
It has every nerve in my body firing out in confusion, energy buzzing through me in every direction it can go, then slamming back on itself and making my stomach flip and my head light.
“Jesus,” he groans, drawing back enough to nip my lower lip before he pushes forward again, turning me inside out with pleasure with the way his tongue commands my mouth.
His curse is the only thing that alerts me to how deep my nails are digging into the back of his neck as I kiss him. He looks at me with hooded lids as I grab his tie with my other hand and yank it loose. My hands fly to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons.
He kisses me again, and I tear at his shirt, ripping it. He groans as I slide my hands over his chest, running them through the short smattering of hair. It’s soft and silky, just like I thought it would be. I scrunch my fingers, tugging on it.
“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing one of my thighs and hooking it around his waist. My skirt is forced up, bunching around my hips.
He follows my eyes to his exposed chest.
“You ruined my shirt.”
“You can afford a new one.” My glossy red nails weave through his chest hair, vibrant against the dark strands.
“I liked this one.”
I tug at his hair in response.
His eyes flash. “You’re such a brat.”
“What you going to do?Spankme?” I bite my bottom lip to hide my smirk. But it’s ripped from my face as Jet yanks my soaked panties to one side.
A whimper escapes me, causing an arrogant glint to flare in his eyes.
He hasn’t even touched me, yet my body is a quivering wreck because of him.
And he knows it.
“No… but I will make you come on my fingers. The way you were so desperate to when I spanked you.”
