Breaking All Her Rules

He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, pinning her arms, his chest hard and hot against her wrists. “If you want to stop at one,” he said, his breath fanning across her cheek.

He smelled good. Like skin and soap. No cologne or any other artificial scent. Just man. And she’d never really appreciated the smell of a man before.

“Well, we haven’t even gotten to the one yet. You’re counting your chickens before they’re hatched.”

“Am I still the fox in this scenario? Are the chickens in the same henhouse?”

“I don’t know. Shut up and kiss me.”

He did. His lips were hard on hers, taking, not asking. And there was nothing about that she should find hot. She wasn’t in to being taken. She wasn’t in to brute strength and big hands. Traditionally speaking. Right now his brute strength and big hands were really doing something for her.

Like, lots of somethings.

He curved his arms around her, his palms flat on her back, pulling her in, his large frame enveloping her. He curled blunt fingers onto her skin, her mouth rough on hers, his tongue delving deep.

She arched into him, and his hand slid downward, down the dip in her spine, curving over her butt. She should be...shocked. At the very least she should be shocked. She shouldn’t be aroused. She shouldn’t want to push her hips back so that his grasp on her was even firmer. So that he was holding her harder.