“Nope,” he said as my thighs shook, my back arched, and I was dangerously close to crushing him with my legs.

“Soren, please,” I begged. And I was never the kind to beg. I demanded. I took. I never pleaded for anything. Ever.

Except, it seemed, him.

“Hey, I didn’t write it,” he said, reaching for me with an annoyingly smug smile, pulling me up, so he could remove my shirt, then bra.

“Fuck the book,” I grumbled, hands going to his belt and whipping it off, then working on his button and zipper.

If I could just get my hands and mouth on him, there would be no more playing around.

“Saff…” he warned.

“You’re supposed to be naked too,” I reminded him.

“You’re right,” he agreed, but he moved away from me, leaving me alone on the couch, aching, needy, as he stepped just out of reach.

Then he started to undress himself, making an event of each button before finally shrugging off his shirt.

His pants went next. Then the boxer briefs that were doing nothing to hide just how turned on he was.

A needy whimper escaped me when he was finally standing before me with nothing to hide behind.

Reaching out, I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer, my hungry gaze on his.

“This isn’t in the story.”

“I think we do better off-script,” I told him, closing my hand around his hard length, then stroking him to the base as I leaned forward to run my tongue around the head. “Or should I stop?”

A growl moved out of him as his hand went to the back of my neck, fingers borderline crushing. “Don’t you dare.”

I had no plans to.

If there was anything hotter than having Soren drive me wild, it was doing the same to him. I was drunk on his desire, the way his fingers tightened on the back of my neck, how his hips were helpless but to rock deeper into my mouth, the frantic pace of his breath, the curses and groans as I sucked him faster and faster.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to come down your throat instead of inside you,” he warned.

Suddenly, I was okay with that.

But Soren, it seemed, had other plans.

His fingers curled in my hair, yanking hard until the pain forced me back, then slowly made me rose to my feet.

He grabbed the backs of my legs, hauling me up, then walking backward until my back slammed into something hard and cold.

Not the wall, I realized with a shivery sort of desire. The window.

His lips were on mine, kissing me hard and deep, his lips as demanding as the hands that were moving over my body.