Page 30 of Never Enough

She shoves me backward on the bed, then straddles me. The movement slots my body against hers in a way that makes my brain white out for a second. I grab her ass with both hands.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve stared at this ass wondering how it would feel in my palms like this,” I say.

She pulls back from the kiss and glares at me. Her eyes blaze, her lips swollen and wet, and even pissed off, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"You are an idiot to have waited this long. You could have had your hands on my ass years ago,” she says.

Then her lips are on mine again, contradicting every word she just said. I'll take it. I'll take whatever she gives me and hold it with both hands.

I pull back just enough to speak against her mouth. "You’re right. I’m a goddamn moron for not speaking up sooner."

I kiss her again. Deeper this time. Slower. Trying to pour every ounce of what I've been carrying into the press of my mouth against hers — years of wanting, years of watching, years of standing on the other side of a distance I put between us and regretting it with every breath.

"You drive me crazy," she pants.

"I've never wanted anyone the way I want you." My voice comes out rough. Wrecked. I don't care. "Having you in my house has been driving me fucking nuts. I haven't jacked off this much since I was a teenager."

She stills against me just slightly, and I feel her breath hitch. Then she rolls her hips—just once, just enough to drag the heat of her against my cock. With only the layer of my boxer briefs and her thin panties, the sensation pulls a groan from me.

"Damn," she breathes. "That's really hot."

Then we're kissing again while she grinds against me.

My hand goes to the hem of her shirt. Slips underneath. And the first touch of her bare skin, warm and impossibly soft, sends a jolt through me so sharp I have to close my eyes for a second to keep from embarrassing myself.

She whimpers into my mouth.

That sound. That small, needy, involuntary sound.

I am going to lose my entire mind.

I trail my lips down her throat, dragging my mouth over the place where her pulse hammers against her skin. My hand shifts higher under her shirt, cupping her bare breast over her bra. Her nipple is already hard, pressing against my palm, and I run my thumb over it just to feel her shudder.

"You've been jacking off thinking about me?" she asks. Her voice is breathy, lust-drunk, barely above a whisper, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

"Yeah, Firefly." I press my mouth to the hollow of her throat. "Every day. Sometimes twice a day. You have no idea what you do to me."

"Show me." She gets off of me to sit on the bed, watching me expectantly.

Two words. Soft and steady and bold all at once. That's my Gracie, always braver than she thinks she is.

"I'd rather make you come," I tell her. Because it's true. I've been imagining it—the way she'd sound, the way she'd look, the way her body would shudder with her release. I want the reality more than I want my next breath.

"Okay," she says. "But first show me how you touch yourself."

Those big brown eyes with those goddamn freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks make her look the picture of innocence. Like she didn't just ask me to put my hand on my cock while she watches.

I palm myself over my underwear. The bulge, the tenting, is obnoxious.

Then she's kissing me again, and I'm lost. Lost in the taste of her and the feel of her curves filling my hands, and the small sounds she makes when I grip her hips and pull her back down against me.

"You're a really good kisser," I say against her mouth.

"That day in SugarBakers," she says quietly. "You surprised the hell out of me."

"Best kiss of my life," I tell her. No hesitation. Honest as a heartbeat.

My palm curves around her hip, and I hold her gaze. "Remember, you wanted me to show you what you do to me. That day, I had to awkwardly hide my erection from my sister and your best friend so you wouldn't think I was a complete pervert."