“I’ve been doing this job since before puberty, and never once has anyone tempted me until now. It takes a lot to break through my blinders, so I think, now that you have, I shouldn’t fight it.”

She reached a hand up to the back of his neck, her gaze dipping down to his lips as she pulled his head closer. Cole zeroed in on her rosy lips, the slight bow of the top one, waiting, forcing himself to let her do the advancing. It seemed to take her a year to reach him, to touch her mouth to his, and when she did, he heard a groan escape him, of relief, need, lust.

His fingers in her hair tightened, held her to him as every one of his senses was engulfed by her, reacted to her. His body burned for her, and as her tongue swirled into his mouth, the heat of her breath meshing with his, it took everything in him not to roll her under him, strip her down, and bury himself inside of her.

Rein it in, asshole.

One of her hands found its way under his shirt, and her fingers trailed up his chest as she angled her body toward his, her hip pressing into his erection. The friction elicited another groan, had him pressing his body into her, pulling her more firmly against him. It was ecstasy and torture at once, because it wasn’t enough, would never be enough until there was nothing between them and he could slide his overheated skin directly against hers.

He trailed his hand to the hem of her sweatshirt, dipped it beneath the thick cotton, expecting to find another layer of material but instead was treated to her baby-soft, taut flesh. Her body was so slender and compact that he could nearly reach halfway around her with one hand, and it awakened some primal, ages-old instinct in him to guard her, protect her, keep her safe.

As their mouths continued to ravish each other, exploring, tongues tangling, Cole let his hand roam upward, searching for the silky fabric of her bra. When he discovered she was completely bare beneath the bulky sweatshirt, his thumb running into the weighty underside of her breast, he let out a growl and managed to hold himself back by a thread.

With the tenderness she deserved, he inched his thumb upward until he found the rigid nub of her nipple. He palmed her, molding and squeezing the globe, wondering how it would taste, what kind of sounds he could elicit from her with his tongue.

Sierra arched into his hand, pressed closer, then broke the contact of their lips.

“I want…” Her breath was shallow, shaky. “I want to climb on top of you but I can’t.”

Fuck yes. He wanted that too. “Why can’t you?” He brushed his thumb over the tip of her nipple again and she shuddered, her lids fluttering closed.

“My ankle…”