Here's a taste of Take Me, the third book in the Burlfriends series, which drops on Sunday, February 14th. Enjoy!
TOM
Once, just once…
I bent lower and slipped my hands fully into her hair, brushing my lips against her ear. There. Innocent enough. She probably hadn’t noticed, but I would relive that millisecond of contact in my mind’s eye until the memory was tissue-thin.
But she shifted in my arms, letting me go.
I released her—
Melty, marshmallow softness, pressed achingly against my lips.
I pulled back. Her eyes searched mine.
“Cassie, what—”
She cupped my face and did it again, and again, and, dreaming, I had no choice but to follow.
When she pressed and pulled back along my upper lip, I did the same to her lower.
When her juicy-sweet tongue quested out, I met her halfway.
We found a steady rhythm, left and right, up and down, each gentle brush glowing across my skin, down my throat, pulsing softly in my chest.
She tasted like coffee candy, rich and comforting. I fought to go slow, to savor the taste, but she was closer than ever before, and even then, it wasn’t enough. My hands tugged on her scalp, grasping her. I pressed her back into the desk, my hips fitting against her as she opened her legs and moaned against my lips—
She’s taken.
She’s not for you.
I stepped, almost stumbled, back, panting. “Cassie. Sorry. I’m sorry.”
She was half-lying on the table, spread wide with one leg up. She lowered it slowly, her own breathing shallow, watching me with hooded eyes.
I stared at her shoes, unable to meet her gaze. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
She gripped my shirt and jerked me to her. “I want you.”
“What—” But her lips found mine, and again I was drowning in a sea of her, her hair, her scent, her petal-soft skin. Again, my hand found the back of her head, the other, her thigh. She pulled my shirt harder, yanked me against her, dragging me into her depths and drinking me in.
I reached, grasped, and plucked back at her, melding my body to hers. The tangible weight of her limbs, her warmth and—
“Wait.”
My eyes snapped open. Her hands, no longer pulling, had opened, her palms a firm backstop against my chest. My own hands were where I’d left them, one on the back of her head, the other undoing the button of her jeans—
I dropped my hands and backed away. “Cassie, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I need to ask you something. Tell you.” She sat up on the desk, eyes wide, panting. “Michael and I are doing an experiment.”