“Please?” she begs.
“For you? Anything.” I smile. The simple statement has a ring of truth. I take the foil packet from her long fingers.
The raging tide of rushing blood and pulse urges me to move quickly as it threatens to crush us both. Sloane clutches to me for life.
I suddenly pull back. I look into her eyes and smile a memory.
“You have freckles on your nose,” I whisper. She reaches up to cover them. I grasp her hand in mine.
“No. Don’t. They’re cute. Sloane.” Her name melts like chocolate on my tongue. She stands, gathering her things like she’s ready to bolt.
“Lennox,” she gasps, struggling to catch her breath. “Wait. Are we sure? What is this?”
I stand. My words are husky and close as I lean my forehead against hers. “A total rush.”
With that, I back her up against the wall and kiss her. Hard. There’s no gentle brush this time. It’s an instinct-driven crush of survival. I grip her lower lip in my teeth and suck it deeply into my own warm mouth, holding it there just long enough for the circulation to slow, then let it go. I can feel her blood pulse back in. Hard. Fast. Strong. Setting the beat for our little dance. I reach a hand to her top button. It strains it against the fabric. Tighter. Tighter. Until it pops. I trace down the valley between her breasts, her beautiful rounded breasts, with a single finger. My other hand drifts, reaching deftly to unhook the button of her jeans. In one swift move, I have them down around her ankles.
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