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His voice hardened just a fraction—a confirmation that he’d understood me. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

My body moved without conscious thought, and before I knew it, I was on my knees for Elliot Vaughn.

Waiting with my mouth wide open.

14

VAUGHN

I stared down at Bett, blood rushing hot and fast to my cock.

He blinked slowly, but I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to get his breathing under control.

He was so fucking pretty. That lush mouth, wide, imploring eyes. His hair flicked around the edges of his face, where it had only partially dried from a recent shower.

I reached out and brushed his hair back. “If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said. For as much as I wanted his mouth on me, had been dying to get him on his knees, I wanted him willing.

Hell, I wanted him aching for it as badly as I was.

And I wanted him to admit it, finally, for both our sakes.

“Tell me you want this,” I said, needing him to hear the words even more than me.

Bett’s eyes carried a pleading look. It was clear he didn’t want to hear himself submit to me.

I squatted down until we were eye to eye. “Do you understand why I need to hear you say it?” I asked gently.

He nodded, but his jaw remained tight. I ran a thumb across the jumping muscle there.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. If you want to touch me… to put your mouth on me… to listen to me tell you what to do with those pretty fucking lips, I’m going to need you to at least kiss m⁠—”

Before I could finish the words, he lurched forward and crashed his lips to mine, knocking me into the solid wood of the door.

I hadn’t actually expected him to kiss me. I was so surprised, I reacted on instinct. I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him back, all lips and tongue and teeth.

Jesus fuck. What the hell had gotten into him?

I’d suspected for a while that I’d gotten under his skin. That I’d made him want me, even though he hated me.

But as his warm mouth took complete possession of mine, his tongue hoppy with the leftover taste of beer and his clean skin smelling like my own bodywash, I realized how wrong I’d been.

There was no hate in this kiss.

We ended up in a tangle on the floor, me sitting with my back against the door and my legs sprawled out in front of me, him sitting in my lap with his knees on either side of my hips.

My hands moved up under his baggy T-shirt to feel his warm skin, the firm muscles of his back and shoulders and sides.

I sucked on his tongue, then gave him mine. He was starving for it—so much I wondered if he’d been with anyone since Arden. Maybe the fucking scoreboard was accurate after all.

The thought made something in my chest roar possessively.

“Want you,” he mumbled into my lips. “Tell me what to do.”

I moved my hands further up under his shirt until he pulled back enough to let me peel it off him. Then I threaded my fingers into his hair and guided his head down until he was kissing and sucking on my neck, my chest, my nipples.

“Fuck,” he breathed as his tongue and teeth pulled just enough to make my stomach tighten.

“Easy,” I said with a hiss, not because it hurt but because my dick was hard and weeping in my jeans—the jeans I hadn’t even had time to shove down before he’d been on me.