Page 18 of Secret Obession
“Do you? And what about yours? Ever since I started staying with you, you’ve barely been able to keep your eyes to yourself. We almost kissed this morning!”
“I wasn’t…” He trailed off, probably because he knew what he was about to say was a lie. “That’s not important.”
“It’s important to me.” I stomped into the house.
“Hold up, Iris.”
“No,” I tossed over my shoulder. “I’m trying to be smart about this, but goddamn are you making it difficult. Looking at me like you wanna kiss me one minute, then shoving reminders of my brother between us the next. I’m a grown woman, and if you were willing to see past Travis, I think you’d have already realized that.”
He was right behind me, crowding me through the hallway. “Of course I realize that. You think it’s been easy, having you in my house, in my bed, without being able to touch you?”
“Then touch me,” I flung over my shoulder. “We both want this.”
He stopped me with a hand on my wrist and gave me a long, searching look. “We shouldn’t.”
“What’s stopping us?” I touched his chest, wondering if his heart was pounding as hard as mine.
The second my fingers made contact, it was like a switch flipped inside Jackson. Between one blink and the next, I was against the wall, his heavy body pressing me into the hard drywall as his lips crushed mine.
It was glorious. Fifteen years of teenage fantasies bursting forth and coming to life, as if I hadn’t spent the last decade repressing them.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he groaned into my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as his hands fumbled with the hem of my blouse. Calloused fingers brushed my bare skin, eliciting a gasp and leaving me desperate for more.
I shoved his work shirt off his shoulders, my hands flying to the hem of his undershirt as he tore at my top. Within seconds, we were both naked from the waist up, exposed to the cool air of his house.
He stared at my breasts, which were encased in a bra I’d chosen more for structural engineering than for looks, with lust burning in his eyes.
When I unhooked it, he made a helpless sound before lowering his head, one thick arm wrapping around my waist to hold me in place while he nipped and sucked at my breasts.
Thank god. I needed him to hold me up under the onslaught of his lips. The lust and pleasure shooting through my body, pooling at my core, was too much for my poor knees to take.
“You taste so fucking good, Iris.”
“We should have been doing this days ago.” I dug my fingers into his hair, urging him on.
I could have sworn he mumbled, “Years,” but the shape of the word was muffled by my tits.
Before I could process that mumbled word, his hands worked the button on my pants and shoved them down. I stepped out of them, leaving myself exposed to his greedy gaze. Everywhere his eyes touched, my skin felt so sensitive it might burst with need.
I knew I was looking right back at him with the same hunger—his barrel chest with a thick dusting of dark hair, the light definition under a layer of padding, all unleashed and focused on me.
Oh yeah, and the huge bulge in his pants, one that promised nothing but pleasure.
When he caught me looking, he said, “I’ve been trying not to take advantage, but my dick’s been hard for days, having you here.”
My lower belly clenched at those rough words.
He didn’t keep me waiting. He shoved his jeans down, and then those thick arms—strong and sturdy—grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, one hand gripping my thigh. At his gentle urging, I wrapped it around his waist.
And then his fingers were at my entrance, probing gently. “Already ready for me, sweetheart?”
“I’ve been ready for you.” I twisted my hips, wrapping my leg more securely around his waist, then leaned back against the wall, opening myself to him.
Jackson might be over six feet, but I was tall as well. With my height, we could line our bodies up easily.
He drew his fingers back and replaced them with the head of his cock, breaching my soaked entrance.
I wiggled my hips and gained an inch.
