Page 116 of Seale the Deal

Ruger, I murmur, though I’m not entirely sure what I intend to say.

My fingers slide into the hair at his nape, and the second I do, something shifts in his expression. His eyes darken. His jaw tightens. It’s like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will, waiting for me to tell him what happens next.

The knowledge that I affect him the same way he affects me is intoxicating.

I rise onto my toes and close the remaining distance between us. His breath catches against my lips before I kiss him, and the sound he makes in response is enough to make my knees feel unsteady. The kiss starts soft, but there is an urgency beneath it now, over a month of anticipation finally finding somewhere to go. His hands settle more firmly at my waist, and when I press closer, he lets out a low groan that vibrates through me.

By the time he begins backing me toward the hallway, we’ve given up pretending we don’t know where this is going. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me effortlessly, my legs locking around his waist. He presses me into the wall, groaning when we align just right.

Tell me you’re wet, baby, he murmurs against my neck, voice rough with restraint.

Dripping, I breathe.

His hips grind into mine, and I gasp, my head falling back.

I haven’t stopped thinking about your tits since Anchorage, he admits, his voice rough as he palms my breast through my shirt.

Our lips find each other again in a heated kiss. For a moment, we seem capable of thinking beyond the fact that we’re finally here. After weeks of dancing around it and days spent trying to decide what any of this means, we’re standing on the edge of a line we’ve yet to cross.

I break the kiss, cupping his face in my hands and look at him. Are you going to carry me upstairs or not?

Chapter 23

Wrenley

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 45-44

Ruger’s eyes search mine like he’s trying to make sure this is real.

Well? I ask, suddenly feeling far less confident than I did thirty seconds ago. A knot forms in my stomach as a dozen horrible possibilities race through my head. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I misread the situation entirely. Maybe I got caught up in the moment and forgot that wanting someone and acting on it aren’t necessarily the same thing.

For a second, he stares at me.

Then he lets out a rough laugh and drops his forehead to mine. Jesus Christ, Wrenley. His hands tighten on me slightly. The only thing stopping me right now is making sure you’re not going to wake up tomorrow and tell me this was a mistake.

I press my lips to his in a heated kiss. When I pull back, I say, I will never say anything we do is a mistake.

Fuck. The word leaves him on a rough exhale.

Before I can say anything else, one of his arms tightens beneath my thighs while the other slides more securely around my back. The shift makes me instinctively cling to him, my arms tightening around his neck as he pushes away from the wall. Without any apparent effort, he carries me down the hallway.

My pulse quickens as I brush a kiss along the corner of his mouth.

I feel him nudge a door open, and then once again, I’m pressed between him and a wall. The weight of him, mixed with the coolness of the wall at my back, makes me acutely aware of every point where we’re touching. His mouth drags down my jaw, then lower, until he finds a place that pulls a sound of me before I can stop it, my lips forming an involuntary O.

Our hands move, learning each other through fabric. When my palms trail down the soft camo of his shirt and over the flat plane of his stomach, I feel the hard line of him straining against his jeans. Heat pulses low in my belly, and I immediately reach for his zipper, desperate to free his cock from its denim prison.

He catches my wrist, thumb pressing just hard enough to hold me there. No, no, no. His voice drops, rough with restraint. If you go straight for that, it’ll be over before I’m done with you.

Before I’m done with you.

That turns the heat up about a thousand degrees.

He turns us, guiding me back until my knees hit the bed. I drop onto it, breath catching.

Ruger, I say, already impatient. I don’t care. I want you.

His mouth curves, like he knows how undone I am by him.