Page 98 of Perfect Satisfaction

“The hell I did. I was—am—jealous of the thought of you being with another man and you know it.” Unwilling to be kept out of her thoughts, I boost her higher into the cradle of my body and jostle her so her head falls back.

Her eyes fly open, mouth parted in anO.

The first time I kissed Sula, I knew then I wanted nothing but her.

Nothing, just my Moore.

Just like I want her now.

I press my body to hers and absorb the feel of her curves softening against me.

Dropping my head, I inhale the scent of the perfume gently resting on her skin. Her scent washes over me, pulling me from an abyss I’ve been drowning in and tossing me under a tidal wave of memories—the love of our past and the hurt of the present.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. So, damn sorry,” I say hoarsely. Finally apologizing for the sins of pride and greed in the past. I’m apologizing now for the sin of envy. But I’ll never apologize for the sin of lust.

Not when it comes to this woman.

I pull my face back until our lips are scant millimeters from one another. What shocks me is the resignation in her brilliant green eyes. “Sula?”

Her eyes close. I imagine I can feel the breath of air against my own cheeks when the fan of lashes flutters. Then they burst open, and the pupils have almost entirely eclipsed the green. It’s like they’re a blackhole leading me to my demise.

“No matter what, this isn’t going to end well for me, so why am I resisting?” she mutters.

With that, she plunges a hand into my hair and tugs my face toward her—exhaling that final breath of air until her lips brush mine.

I come out of my stupor and slide my hand through her thick hair and take ownership of our kiss.

I finally take my fill of my Moore.

At first, I’m content to just pluck the sweetness from her lips. I run my tongue along her lower lip. “Sugar?”

Her lips curve. “Cinnamon rolls.”

“Can I have a taste?”

Her head falls back against the wall. “I don’t remember you asking permission in the past.”

I’m no man’s fool. I surge forward, my kiss stopping any further words from either of us. I part her lips with my tongue, doing a sweep inside and taste coffee and cinnamon, as well as something much sweeter—my Sula. I spend my time plucking kisses from her lips, thrusting and retreating, teasing her as I wrap my mind around the inconceivable.

She’s in my arms again. Finally.

My head spins with the unerring way she tugs and pulls at my hair, just like she did the last time I held her like this, the last time I held any woman like this.

When her head tips to the side, I find the perfect angle to consume her while reveling in our shared pleasure.

With each touch, Sula becomes more pliant in my arms. I rip my lips from hers and bury my face in her neck, inhaling the scent that’s so uniquely her. I know if I close my eyes and a million women walk by me wearing the same fragrance, I’d be able to pick out Sula from all of them.

And she’d never believe me.

We need to talk more than give in to the physical fire that’s always burned between us. Still, I can’t deny myself one more foray into the honeyed depths of her mouth, feeling her tongue stroking over mine. It’s like a drug that was created just for me.

Gently lowering her to her feet, I move away. My heart feels raw and my body’s shaking. I lower my lips to hers and whisper, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Her face pales and she’s not quite quick enough to mask the pain. Instead of responding, she turns to move away.

Christ, I’m such a dick. I reach out and catch her by the shoulder. “Sula, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. This just caught me off guard.”

Nothing. No response. I pull her back against my chest and lower my lips to her ear. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”