The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

Without letting herself double- or triple-think it, she leaned in and kissed him, knowing she was only asking for trouble and she was more than okay with that.

Chapter Fourteen

Will froze. It wasn’t because he wasn’t burning for more—because he fucking was—but because Hadley needed to get away from the memories; the pain of the past wasn’t for show. No one was that good of an actress, hundreds of millions on the line or not. She’d pull back in a second, the regret he’d seen in the coat closet clear on her face, and that would be it. And he’d still be here wanting the woman who meant to take his brother for everything she could. But as she moved her soft lips against his, the tip of her tongue teasing him, begging for more, it got harder and harder to hold on to that. Because knowing it was wrong didn’t change the wanting.

He cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers through her brown hair and breaking the kiss. The move cut into him like an icy wind. “Hadley.”

“We shouldn’t,” she said, her voice soft with an edge of need beneath it.

“No.” Still he didn’t move, the tension holding him in place, his fingers tangled in her hair, her body so close, he could feel the heat of her skin against him.

“But we want to.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “At least I want to.”

His cock thickened against his thigh as he white-knuckled his control even as it slipped through his grasp. “You are not alone in that.”

“But we can’t.” Her hands on his chest, fingertips gliding their way over him and leaving nothing but unquenched fire in their wake.

He didn’t mean to bring her closer, to glide his hands down to her hips and slide her over so she was on his lap. Her hands were on his shoulders, straddling him. Somehow, even though he knew exactly how perfectly her softness fit against his hardness, he managed to keep his hands light on her hips instead of pulling her down and grinding her against him.

This would kill him.

She would kill him.

God, he’d die happy.

“It’ll complicate things,” he managed to get out through clenched teeth as he fought against the lust burning him from the inside out.

Her cheeks flushed, desire swirling in her eyes, as she clutched his shirt as if she were as much on the edge as he was. “It already has.”

Fuck. How did he argue with that? He couldn’t. Not here, not now, with Hadley in his arms, her body pressed up against his in the tiny booth. The whole world collapsed in on this one place, the air heavy with promise and possibilities, as if they weren’t just battling each other but that they were fighting the inevitable.

“One last time,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of her.

“Then we’ll have each other out of our systems,” she said, tugging at his shirt and pulling it free.

She worked it upward so slowly, it was more like torture than anything else, until the only thing against his chest was the cool of the fresh air and the heat of her gaze.

“Do you really think we can?” Because he didn’t just doubt, he wanted to believe.

“Only one way to find out,” she said, pushing his shirt up and off him in a fast, fluid motion that still took too damn long. “Please, Will.”

She rocked against him in a slow rhythm th

at short-circuited his brain, but it was the sound of his name on her lips as she rubbed herself against his hard cock that snapped his last bit of self-control. There were better men out there who’d say, not wrongly, that this was the woman gold digging his brother—or more charitably, the woman fighting to forget old hurts—and, therefore, he should peel her off him, set her down, and walk away.

He wasn’t that man.

Dropping his hands so they were flat on the smooth cowhide seat on either side of his thighs, his entire body hard and aching for her, he forced himself to hold on long enough to get out one last question. “Are you sure?”

She grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it off, dropping it so it landed on top of his on the seat. “Absolutely.”

Thank. Fucking. God.

Her perfect tits were encased in paper-thin purple lace, the pointed tips of her nipples jutting out, right at eye level. Later, he’d look his fill. Now, he needed more. He tugged down the lace cups and sucked her freed nipple into his mouth. Licked it. Teased it with his teeth. Swirled his tongue around its hard, sensitive peak as she moaned her pleasure, begging for more. The sounds she made, the way she let her head fall back as she rocked her hips, it ruined him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he said.

Her hands tightened in his hair, a teasing tug as she let out a shaky breath. “That wasn’t how I planned on taking you out, but a woman can dream.”