Her hands fall to my chest, easing their way to my shoulders. “I didn’t let him.”
“Don’t mess with me,” I warn quietly, my grip on her tightening.
She tilts her head to the side, her fingers tracing the outline of my shoulders. “Messing with you is the last thing I want.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
I stumble back, completely thrown off guard by her request. But Yasmin doesn’t give me a chance to refuse her. Her hand skims to the back of my neck, her nails grazing my skin on their way and making goosebumps appear on my skin. She pulls me down, her mouth crashing against mine as she kisses me.
A soft moan escapes her as our mouths meet. Her lips are even softer than I imagined, and I imagined it a lot. More often than I’d like to admit, she’d sneak into my dreams late at night.
She’s kissing me with fervor, like every minute, every touch counts. Like this is the only chance she’ll get, and she doesn’t want to lose even a second.
Gripping the back of her neck, I tilt her head to the side. She nibbles at my lower lip, her teeth sinking into my flesh. Pain and pleasure crash into me like a wave.
Her tongue slides over my lower lip, soothing the pain away, and I use this moment to mesh my tongue with hers. Her mouth parts, and my tongue slides into her velvet heat, deeper, harder. Our tongues swirl together, tasting, sliding, sucking.
“We should stop,” I murmur, breaking the kiss.
We’re both panting hard, fighting for every ragged breath. Yasmin’s back is pressed against the door, her chest arching into me. Her lipstick is smeared all over her mouth, her mouth looking plump and thoroughly kissed just like it should, and I’m sure I don’t look any better.
“We should,” she agrees readily, but makes no attempt to pull back.
My grip at the nape of her neck tightens, silky strands of her hair intertwining with my fingers.
“This is wrong.”
So, so wrong.
“But it feels so damn good.”
That it does.
I’m so fucking screwed.
But do I stop?
Not a chance in hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
YASMIN
Nixon Cole tastes like mint, beer, and a lot of bad decisions. Kissing him should be the last thing I want to do. He’s infuriating and overbearing to the point he drives me crazy, but I can’t seem to help myself. I just want to sink into him and let go.
I open the door to my room. Taking a step back, I pull him after me. Once the door is safely shut after us, I push him against the now-closed door and kiss him once again, not holding anything back.
If I’m going to do this, I might as well go all in.
I guess I could always blame it on the alcohol, but I don’t want to.
Because the truth is, I want him.
I want Nixon Cole, everything else be damned.
“You’ve been drinking,” he protests as if he can read my mind. He pulls back from me, making me groan in frustration.
“Not nearly enough.”
“But…”
Gripping his face with my hands, I force him to look at me. We haven’t bothered to turn on the lights so the room is pitch black, but I don’t care one bit. “No buts. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I’m getting rid of this.” I slide my hand under his shirt and tug it upward, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. Nixon’s more on the lean side compared to the rest of the football players, but not less muscled. His shoulders are wide, every muscle well defined.
I slide my hand down his narrow waist and over his abs, my finger tracing the ridges and counting two, four… six perfect squares.
His muscles quiver under my touch, making a small smile tip my lips.
I unbuckle his pants slowly, and when I look up, I find Nixon watching me. His teeth are grazing over his lower lip as he follows my every movement.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Just one night,” I say softly.
I watch him as my words sink in. Needing him to know that this can only be that. One night. One beautiful, reckless moment. One chance to forget all of our worries. That’s all I have to give. All I can give him.
Nixon is quiet for a moment, his light eyes piercing into mine in the darkness.
“Just one night,” he agrees finally.
It’s like saying those words out loud has unleashed something inside of him. Getting rid of his jeans in a quick movement, Nixon pushes off the wall and stalks toward me with the ruthless determination I’ve seen him use on the field. His hand digs into my hair, pulling me in for a strong kiss as he walks us backward to my bed.
In our haste I trip over something on the floor, but thankfully the room is small so the bed is already behind me, taking in my fall. Nixon falls on top of me, bracing most of his weight on his outstretched arm.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I latch my mouth onto the crook of his neck, tasting his skin with a swipe of my tongue.
“You’re driving me insane, you know that?”
His hips press into mine, and I can feel the outline of his hard dick rubbing against me. My whole body shudders at the touch, my inner walls clenching with the need to feel him inside me.
Díos. My head falls back, eyes closing as he grinds his hips into mine. It’s been so long. Too damn long since I felt a man’s hands on me.
Nixon bends his head down, his lips kissing a path down my neck, over the swells of my breasts, only stopping when the top of my dress gets in the way.
He groans unhappily, his fingers digging into my hips. “Up.”
I do as he asks, arching off the mattress so I can help him get the dress off. It slides off in one swift movement, cool air caressing my skin and making goosebumps rise on my flesh. And then Nixon’s hands are on my bare skin, his rugged fingertips sliding down my sides. Warmth pools in my belly at his touch.
“So fucking beautiful,” he mutters, lowering his head to my breasts and picking up where he left off. His hands cup my breasts, pushing them together as he licks my lace-clad nipple, every once in a while letting his teeth graze the sensitive tip.
“Nixon,” I moan softly, my fingers tangling in his hair as I push up, anything to get closer to him.
He switches between my breasts, giving the same attention to the other, and then sucking it into his mouth.
“Yes!”
The combination of his tongue and the lace on my skin has me trembling in his arms. Pulling back, he looks down as his fingers trace the lacy trim.
“Pretty,” he tsks. “Shame it has to go.”
His finger slides between the hollow of my breasts, and with one flick of his fingers the cups spring open.
“Now this,” he rasps, his rough fingers tracing the underside of my breasts, making my skin prickle in awareness. “This is beautiful.”
His mouth sucks on one nub, pulling it deep in his mouth. If I thought Nixon’s mouth on me was good before, this is heaven. My fingers dig into his hair, pulling him closer, head falling back as the sweet ecstasy washes over me. He switches from one side to the other, sucking, tongue flicking over each sensitive bud until I can’t take it any longer. My hips are restlessly grinding under him. He must sense it too, because he starts going lower, leaving small kisses over my abdomen all the way down to…