“I do too,” he whispers. Setting the bottle off to the side, he looks over and our gazes collide once more. The smoldering heat in his eyes sets me on fire. Not even the storm raging outside could put out the inferno he’s igniting within me.

A low growl tears from my throat as my hand snakes around the back of his neck, hauling his body toward mine. He gasps as our lips crash together, hands fisting the front of my shirt. His lips part from surprise, allowing my tongue to slip inside, invading every inch of his hot, wet mouth.

With our lips still locked, he climbs over the table, and into my lap. His hands leave the front of my shirt, wrapping around my neck instead. His body is hot and hard against mine, hips rolling into me, as we devour each other’s mouths.

My entire body is thrumming with unhinged need, pulse hammering in my ears, and my cock is throbbing behind my pants as he continues to rock his own erection against mine. I can’t get close enough. I want to eat, sleep, and breathe in this feeling, in this moment.

Our mouths break apart as my lips move to his throat, placing kisses all along his neck. My hands squeeze his ass as he writhes on top of me. Goosebumps litter his skin under my touch, and he trembles in my arms.

His mouth is next to my ear, and his soft pants and groans send a shiver through my overheated body. Turning his head, his lips find mine once more, tongue sliding into my mouth with fervor. Hands weave through my hair, gripping the strands at my scalp as we breathe heavily into one another’s mouths.

“I want you to touch me,” he whispers, tongue poking out, and gliding across my bottom lip.

Shaking with need, my mind zeroes in on doing exactly that… touching him. I can’t remember the last time I wanted anything as much as I want that right now. Bringing my hand around to his front, I cup him over his sweats. He gasps at the contact, rocking into my hand, and nuzzling his face into my neck.

“Pull these down.” My voice is hoarse and raspy.

His hands leave my neck and hook inside his sweats, but before he can get them down, the lights turn back on. Reality washes over us like a bucket of cold water as our gazes lock. His lips are swollen and red, hair tousled every which way, and eyes hooded and filled to the brim with lust.

He’s absolutely beautiful.

But I shouldn’t be here, doing this with him. Fuck.

He must see the guilt pass through my eyes, understanding swimming in his. Climbing off me, he adjusts himself, turning away and walking toward the window.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “That was my fault, and it shouldn’t have happened.”