“I’ll fuck it up.” Didn’t need to answer it
straight. Admit it. Fact this girl had me on my knees made it clear enough. But
she needed to know one thing. “I’ll ruin you. Don’t fuckin’ mistake it.”
It was a growl. A warning I already knew
this girl wasn’t going to heed.
Because neither of us were immune to this.
She pressed my hand down farther. “It’s
okay because it’s the loneliness that hurts the most.”
For a few minutes, I was going to take it
away.
Greed rumbled up my throat, and my hand she
had pressed against the raging of her heart spread wider, pressing tight up
against all that gorgeous, honeyed flesh before I was pushing forward, my face
pressed to her dress, against the fabric that covered her stomach.
“Eden.”
It was a grunt.
A plea.
A warning.
Because I didn’t know how either of us were
going to come back from this.
Should walk.
Hell, I should fuckin’ run. Get on my bike
and put a state or two between us. End this before it got any more complicated.
But those fingers drove into my hair, hanging
on tight to the point of pain, and I was grumbling the promise into the fabric
of her dress, “Gonna touch you, baby. Gonna make you feel right.”
She whimpered, and I pulled back a fraction
so I could take her in. So I could get a good look at this timid seductress
sitting propped on the edge of her bed.
Her breath all around, her heart beating
out of control, her chest writhing in desperate heaves.
I glided my hand down her trembling belly,
around the curve of her hip, all the way until I was back to holding her by
both knees. Dipping down, I pressed my nose to the inside of her left thigh.
Slowly, I dragged it up.
Inhaling as I went.
Sucking down that sweet, honeyed scent.
She shivered, and her hands tightened in my
hair. “Trent.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I had this precious girl in the palm of my
hands. Ruinin’ her the way I did.
Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
And I swore to god, she would like it
tonight.
The ruining.
The destroying.
She trembled as I slipped my palms under
the material of her dress and glided it higher until she was all exposed,
quivering, silky thighs.
Lush and curved.
A perfect fantasy.
Lust pounded through my bloodstream, seeing
her this way. So damned sexy. So fuckin’ sweet. Everything I shouldn’t have.
Shouldn’t want. What I was going to take because I didn’t know how to stop.
“You’re beautiful, Eden. Fuckin’ heaven,” I
murmured against the flesh, nose riding the length of her inner thigh until I
was pressing it to the lacy white fabric covering that sweet spot I was dying
to get lost in.
“Little Temptress.”
MEET A.L.
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, and FALLING STARS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, BENEATH THE STARS, releasing February 22nd!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson - Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
Connect with A.L.
Twitter｜@aljacksonauthor
Instagram｜@aljacksonauthor
