Page 67 of Manors & Mischief

“We…do.” It’s supposed to come out like a question, but it lands flat. Like an agreement. I don’t think my body would deny him much when he’s this close. I could just step backward a fraction and be plastered against his front. Every beat of my heart is like a chant begging me to do it. I’m so close to listening that it’s almost painful.

“I see this going two different ways. One, we take things slow.” He runs his hands up and down my body like he’s already decided that’s not the option we should take.

I find myself saying, “Or?”

“You give in, and I’ll give us what we both want.”

“But then what?” I ask.

He runs his hand up my ribcage. His touch on the rougher side before he closes his hand over my breast and pinches my nipple.

I gasp in protest. Then he strokes it, softening the sting of pain and replacing it with an ache. “Do it again,” I demand breathlessly.

He does it again, and I gasp a second time. This time, he holds it longer until I squirm. Then massages it, easing the pain. I step back into him, and his arm locks around my middle, keeping me in place while his other hand moves from one breast to the other. “I don’t intend on letting you go.”

He plays with my nipple first, then pinches. Pleasure flares in my core, strengthening like a storm. I should put a stop to this. We have so much to do. So much to focus on. Plus, we haven’t—. “Is your pussy wet for me?”

I nearly choke. Dear God. What is he doing to me? Part of me thinks I should be appalled at his words, but the other part of me takes stock, noting the dampening of my panties at his near abrasive words. Somehow, it’s not what I expected from Devon, but in others, maybe it’s exactly what I need. I seal my lips, refusing to answer.

It doesn’t bother him. He keeps going. “Have you ever been truly fucked?” His hand leaves my breast, traveling south. It takes up space, like conquering lands, claiming domains. “Not the cutesy boyfriend sex where he promises you everything and whispers into your ear while coming prematurely. I’m talking about a total takeover of your body, Ember.”

God no. I’ve never felt anything like that. How is Devon real? Sweet when he needs to be. Sexy when he should be. Then he can talk like this?

I didn’t see him coming.

I didn’t see the fact that I like this type of talk coming.

“You’re making it hard to say no.”

He pulls away, his hand nearly between my legs, and a part of me whimpers. “Do you want to say no?”

Fuck no. Yes? My body and my mind war with each other. It’s clear what the other thinks is right. I can hardly believe I’m even in this position. How did we get here again?

That’s right. My traitorous nipples.

Or Devon being bold, insinuating complete dominance over my body.

I had promised myself a night with a spicy book, but let’s face it, a real night is better. Instead of whatever my imagination and my fingers can come up with, I could be getting fucked. The kind where the headboard methodically hits the wall. Good news is that these beds could take the beating Devon has in store.

He steps back. Air rushes between us, cooling my skin. “You took too long.”

I reach for him, but he’s already steps away. Stubborn jerk. I turn, glaring at him. “It’s not the kind of thing I want to jump into without thinking.”

He quirks a brow His flannel is rolled up to his forearms. He smells like wood…and something quintessentially man. From spying the tent in his pants, I can see how badly he wants this, and so do I.

I step forward, poking him in the chest, surprised when the tip of my finger hits hard muscle. It almost makes me forget what I was going to say, but I charge on. “You listen to me, Devon Lachey. I’m going to⁠—.”

“Hello?”

I stop, ice freezing in my veins. I was just about to tell Devon I was going to crawl on the bed and he could do whatever he wanted with me for twenty minutes…but his mom is downstairs.

The front screen door creaks open and then bangs closed.

“Fuck,” Devon seethes. His jaw grinds together before he hooks his finger around the waistband of my shorts and pulls me close. “Do you think you can come on my finger before she finds us?”

“It’s a big house,” we say at the same time.

No matter how much his eyes promise escape and pleasure, I can’t do it. Not now.