Page 105 of Ruled By Rivalry

His chin grazed my towel, that’s how close we were. Between one second and the next, my hand disappeared in his hair, his eyes closed in response, and a sound tried to fight its way out of his throat, very nearly succeeding. My earlier question was all forgotten about.

“If I’m sure of exactly one thing right now,” I began. “It’s that I want you, Elliot Ashwood.”

“But you said—”

Whatever had taken over my body let go of my towel, too. The argument died on his tongue, leaning back against his elbows, cock springing against his stomach. “Christ, Maeve.”

I’d never been particularly self-conscious about my body, but then again, no one had ever studied it the way he was now. His gaze slid along every dip and every crevice, so intently it felt like a touch in itself. Across my hard nipples, down my stomach, between my thighs. Core glistening the same way his tip was.

“You’re—”

“Dripping.”

“Can I—?”

“Please.”

His touch was gentle, and that made it worse. Exploring me, letting his fingers trail down my side until they disappeared between my folds, and he swallowed a sound so primal the walls would’ve shaken.

“Another few weeks,” he said, like he hadn’t just breathed a kiss against my clit. “If you still want me then, you’ll have me.”

I shook my head vigorously. “I’ll combust before I make it another minute without you.”

And I meant it. That incessant need for him, the one that had been harder and harder to suppress, was threatening to eat me alive if we didn’t do something about it.

He pressed his finger between me again, reminding himself how wet I was. “Fuck,” he groaned, then repeated, “Fuck, Maeve. This is such a bad idea.”

“Is it?” I asked innocently as I took one final step toward his bed. He didn’t mean to scoot back, make space, invite me in. His body did that for him. I simply followed its request when I sat.

“You shouldn’t be doing this with a guy you hate.” But his hand wandered back to his cock, stroking just once. Wanting to do it again, I could tell by the gleam in his eyes, that obvious need for someone to touch him. And if it wasn’t going to be me, he had to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

“And yet here I am.” Lie. Such a big one, I almost felt bad. But this wasn’t the time to tell him all about my recent realizations and discoveries.

Something in his expression loosened, in sync with the sound in his throat. With a groan, guttural and raw, he let his head fall back and that last bit of restraint he’d been holding on to right with it.

I didn’t think I’d like watching his hand ride up and down his cock as much as I did. But knowing he was imagining my hands or lips or, God forbid, me on top of him . . . I couldn’t deny what it was doing to me.

The way my finger slipped between my legs was involuntary. Like there was no other way I could’ve possibly reacted to the image of Elliot, jerking off in front of me.

“God.” I only realized I’d closed my eyes when I opened them again at the sound. “You really are needy,” he said, appreciation in every intonation. “You just can’t help it, can you?”

I couldn’t. With a finger circling my clit, the other hand playing with my nipples, and a perfect view of him, doing the equivalent to himself, I was basically unstoppable. My moan said as much—and quickened his pace. Which quickened mine.

“How often have you done this?” he asked, husk in his voice. “Touched yourself to the thought of me?” Panting a laugh, he added, “Fair warning, if you say more than once, I’m going to come.”

I moaned and finally pushed a finger inside of myself. “More than once.”

“Maeve.” Warning in his tone. “I’m serious.”

“Good. I want you to be.”

Wanted to see him lose control. Wanted to see his face contort and hear him finally stop holding those moans back completely. Wanted to see my name on his lips, at the very least. If he wasn’t going to sleep with me, I could at least ask for that much, right?

I wasn’t sure what compelled him or changed his mind, but he came closer, kneeled over me. Let his fingers dance across my legs and showed me how much it affected him. “You want me to come?”

“Right before you make me come.”

“Not the other way around?” But from the way his hand moved, his pace picked up, and there was enough precum it had turned into lube, we didn’t have enough time for a change in plans.