Page 144 of Fake it ’Til Fall

I lift my hand into her hair and guide her face back.

“No hiding.”

Her eyes open.

“You’re bossy in bed too?”

“Only when you need it.”

“I do not need it.”

I brush my thumb over her nipple, then close my mouth over her again.

Daisy loses the argument on a gasp.

I take my time because I need to. Because she deserves to be touched like I’m paying attention. Because Daisy, with her lists and jokes and bright little deflections, has spent too much of her life making herself useful enough to keep, and I want her useless with pleasure. I want her selfish. I want her undone and safe at the same time.

“You feel that?” I murmur against her skin.

She nods.

“Say it.”

Her laugh comes out shaky. “I feel it.”

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“Tell me if you want more.”

Her eyes find mine.

For a moment, the room holds still around us.

Then Daisy says, “I want more.”

So I give her more.

My mouth moves over her slowly, worshiping her. It’s heat without rushing her past herself. I kiss the soft curve of her breast, the slope of her ribs, the tender place below. Every time she tries to turn away, I bring her back with my mouth, with my hand at her hip, with her name spoken low enough that it belongs only to us.

“Daisy.”

Her knees draw up around me.

“That,” she whispers.

I do it again.

Her hand flies to my shoulder, nails digging in, and the sound she makes goes straight through what’s left of my restraint.

I lift my head.

She looks dazed. Beautiful. Angry about both.

“You’re going to be a problem,” she says.

“I already am.”