BAD BOY

Her thighs trembled against my hand, squeezing me there like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to trap me or shove me away.

I didn’t give her the choice.

My fingers slid higher, past the hem, finding the thin lace that barely covered her. The sharp breath she sucked in was all the invitation I needed.

“God…” she gasped.

“Not God,” I murmured, pressing harder. “Me.”

The heat of her pulsed through the fabric, wet already. My grin spread. “So much for being ...