One Bossy Proposal: Enemies to Lovers Romance

I close my eyes and sigh.

It’s all I can do to delay shredding her clothes, throwing her under me and spreading her legs.

“Enough talk. We have a lot of night left and very little patience.” I kiss her forehead.

“Promise you’re okay with this?” she whispers.

I reposition her in my lap so I can seal that promise on her lips, pushing my tongue deep into her mouth.

I write my vow on her person and steal it with a stolen whimper pulled from her lungs.

I sign the fucking thing with my hand on her tit, finding her nipple, and pinching it like it’s already mine because—goddammit, yes—it is.

I promise by devouring Dakota Poe until she’s a quivering, red-faced, hot little mess.

I’m almost blue from the frustration in my balls spreading by the time I rip myself away from her for a few ragged breaths.

“There. I promise, Nevermore,” I say sternly.

She looks at me and smiles before her mouth joins mine again in sticky sweet bliss.

I hold her as close and as tight and as jealously as I can.

I wish I could keep this moment pure, innocent, special. But with my body starved for hers, I don’t have a prayer of being a choir boy tonight.

My hips rear down against her, pressing into her like an animal in a mating dance, my cock growing harder by the second. We’re both in a fever, rolling on the sofa, taking our turns on top and bottom with a storm of biting kisses.

“You even fight me for kisses,” I muse, pressing my hands against her back when she’s on top of me, staring into her eyes.

When I start to shift her over so I can push my hand between my hard-on and her leg, she moves first, swings a leg over mine, and straddles me.

Fuck.

A hoarse sound grinds out of me as I move my hands to her hips, dragging her against me greedily.

“You’ll slaughter me,” I tell her, deadly aware this can’t end anywhere else but my bed.

“Slaughter? Did I do something wrong?” Her emerald eyes go round with mischief. “Should we—I mean, I—we—umm—should I stop?”

Does she hear herself?

Should the sun not rise tomorrow?

My teeth are bared as I take her lips again, moving my tongue in and out, languidly but fiercely, leaving no doubt what I want from her.

“...but you said I’m driving you crazy,” she whispers when I break away.

“Only in the best way, Nevermore. Have me committed, just as long as I get you naked.” I can’t believe she’s still giving me nervous eyes. That little screwball did a real number on her.

I’ve got to convince this woman she can trust herself, trust her own emotions, trust the fact that she’s hot perfection any man would feel eternally grateful for.

“Sorry. Lincoln, I just—”

“No more excuses. Shut up and kiss me again,” I growl, fisting her hair and helping guide her mouth to mine.

My lips find hers again. I relish in the sweet, unsure way her tongue traces mine.

Every movement.

Every sigh.

Every heartbeat.

Every nip.

Her teeth catch my bottom lip as she has a burst of confidence and then falls away trembling.

I’m about to complain, but her mouth moves to my neck. She kisses and explores me with a frenzied interest that tells me she’s wanted to for a long damn time.

“Oh, God,” she moans, clutching my shoulders for support.

She has no clue.

How badly I want to be buried inside her with her body thrown around mine. Her kisses are a flash flood in the desert.

Sweet as heaven, but they won’t come close to quenching the thirst, the animal need driving every inch of me.

Her small fingers brush the skin under my shirt collar. She pulls it down.

Cool night air tickles my skin and then the warm caress of her tongue.

Mania, your name is Lincoln Burns.

Inhaling sharply, I cup my hands under her ass and stand, keeping her in the same position as I urge us upright.

“Where are we going?” she asks in a tiny voice that says she already knows.

“Inside,” I answer.

I’m not fucking waiting for her legs to work. I lift her again, pull her into my arms.

She starts at the base of my neck with the sweetness of her tongue, her teeth, and the full glory of her tease. She’s made it up to where my neck meets my jaw by the time we’re moving through my place.

With a lot of deep breaths and miraculous focus, we make it upstairs to the hall outside my room.

Her fingers come to the top of my shirt. She runs one over the bare skin of my throat and then places her other hand on the top button.

“If I were to push this out of the hole—”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” I say.

That’s all the encouragement she needs.

She’s smiling like I’ve never seen as the button pops free.