Page 21 of Mile High Ruin

I should stop without being told.

Instead, I drag my mouth from hers and feel her breath break when I kiss the corner of her lips, then the line of her jaw.

Her skin is warm beneath my mouth. She smells clean and faintly floral, but underneath it is the scent of her, something soft and feminine that makes the cramped restroom feel even smaller. I kiss down the side of her neck, slowly enough to feel the pulse beating wildly beneath my lips.

Her head falls back against the door.

“Vadim,” she whispers.

My name in her voice nearly ends what little restraint I have left.

I close my teeth lightly over the delicate skin below her ear. She shudders, and her hands slide into my hair, fingers tightening against my scalp. The sensation sends a hard surge of need through me. I press my thigh between hers, not enough to trap her, but enough that she feels the pressure exactly where she’s already warm.

Her hips move.

Barely. Instinctively.

The soft friction pulls another whimper from her.

I lift my head and look at her. Her eyes are half closed, her lips swollen from my mouth, and several strands of dark hair have fallen loose from the knot at the back of her head. Her careful composure has cracked completely, revealing flushed skin and shallow breaths and a desire she clearly resents as much as she feels.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I tell her.

Her lashes lift. “Like what?”

“As though you want me to continue.”

A flash of defiance returns to her face, weakened by the way her body is still pressed to mine. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”

That answer is a mistake.

For both of us.

I kiss her again, and this time there’s nothing restrained in it. My hand travels up her side, following the fitted line of her uniform until my palm closes over her breast through the stiff fabric of her blouse. She gasps into my mouth, her body jerking against mine as my thumb moves over the hard point of her nipple.

The reaction tears through me. I want more of it. I want every sound she has.

I break the kiss and pull back only far enough to find the buttons of her blouse. I open one, then another, watching her face for resistance.

She doesn’t stop me.

Her breathing grows faster as I part the fabric enough to expose the upper curve of her breasts and the pale edge of her bra. The sight isn’t much by ordinary standards, but there’s nothing ordinary about the way she looks at me while I lower my head.

I press my mouth to the soft swell above the lace.

Sloane’s breath catches. Her fingers tighten in my hair again when I kiss lower, my lips tracing the edge of the cup before my tongue touches the warm skin just above it. She trembles against the door, and I feel the movement everywhere our bodies meet.

“Fuck,” she breathes. The word sounds shocked, as though she didn’t expect it to leave her mouth. I nearly smile against her skin.

My hand cups her breast more firmly, lifting it while I kiss the exposed curve. I want to drag the fabric down, take her nipple into my mouth, and listen to what sound she makes when I suck it hard enough to make her forget every reason this is wrong.

I could. She would let me.

The certainty is dangerous.

Her head turns as I kiss up the center of her chest, and her cheek brushes mine. Her breathing is hot against my ear.

I feel her body soften further into me. Trusting me.