Page 25 of Playing Hard to Get

He stilled but didn’t pull away. His breath flitted across my neck, like waves lapping at the shore. “Let go, darlin’. Let me take control. Let me give you what you need.”

I forced myself away, leaned my back against the wall, putting distance between us. “I can’t do that to Frankie.”

“Stop worrying about Frankie,” he said, close to my ear. “Worry about Vivian. Worry about me, and how I make you feel. I want to make you come.”

A bitter laugh broke free. “In your dreams.” Definitely in mine.

“Give me a chance, Viv.” Mitch pulled back, pacing the four feet to the bathroom door and back. He leaned in close and his breath whispered across my face. “Give me one chance. If I don’t make you come, I’ll leave you alone.”

No. I didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be with him. Didn’t want to be without him.

The door to the bathroom opened. Mitch stepped back before the woman’s face cleared the door. I didn’t know her, but it was obvious Mitch had made her acquaintance. He nodded and gave her a smoldering smile. The blush across her cheeks was evident, even in the dim light in the hall, and my eyes followed her as she walked away, back to the party. Mitch’s finger hooked my hand, tugging my attention to him.

“One chance, darlin’.”

One chance. One last time with him before he left me alone. God, I wanted it and I didn’t. He took a step backward, toward the bathroom.

One chance.

Right here.

My body wouldn’t say no. I followed, pushing the door shut with my foot. Mitch reached behind me and locked the door as our lips collided. I pressed into him, pushing him into the wall. Taking control. Taking what I needed.

“My turn.” His words halted me. My hands stilled on his chest.

“What?”

His dark eyes locked on mine as his hands roamed over my back. “You give me a chance, darlin’. I take control. I take you. For once, I want you to step back and let go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You want me, Viv?”

Oh, I did. I did, with everything in me. I nodded, just once.

“Turn around.”

The deep rumble in his chest tortured me, made my stomach quiver. I pulled away from him and turned, facing the wide double mirror. Mitch smiled at my reflection, that wicked, gorgeous grin. He raised his hands to my hair, gathering it at my nape, then sweeping it across my shoulder. As he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, he slid his hands down my arms, interlocking his fingers with mine. Then he pushed. Pushed against me, nudging me forward until my legs hit the white cabinet. His fingers slipped free, and he pressed my hands into the black granite countertop.

“Stay.” Back up my arms his fingers went, grazing my skin as his lips and teeth worked my neck. Then, torturing me with the need pooling between my legs, Mitch inched his hands down my sides. Down my legs. Slowly, up under my dress, lifting, lifting, until it was at my waist. His eyes locked on mine in the mirror, and damn if it didn’t make me want him more. “Good girl.”

One hand left my body and I ached with the loss. The one remaining swirled across my stomach, dipping low, one finger trailing across the top of my thong. I felt him moving behind me, unbuttoning his pants. I saw him ripping a condom wrapper with his teeth.

I needed it.

I needed him.

In a sudden movement, Mitch’s hands grabbed my thong and pulled it down to my ankles. On his way up, he slid my legs apart. Standing behind me, he pushed me forward, one hand on my back, forcing me over the sink. And he was in, so fast, so sudden, the shock of pleasure made a moan spring free.

“Shh, shh, darlin’.” Mitch stilled, leaning over me. His eyes met mine again. “Not a word, not a sound. Just focus on where we meet and let go.” His hands clutched my hips and he pulled back, inching out, slow, slow. Then, as fast as the first time, he slammed into me again.

And again.

And again.

Oh, God, the pleasure.

It was all I could do to keep from moaning, screaming, crying out. He filled me, every inch of me. His eyes watched mine, tearing into my soul. He was hard, fast, oh, so good and oh, so bad.