Beneath the Surface (Sugarlake, #4)

by Emily McIntire

don’t enjoy kissing. It’s never been my thing.” My stomach jumps into my throat, my knuckles tight from where I’m gripping the counter. “But I swear to God, I’d let the world burn if it meant I could taste your lips.” My heart free-falls into my stomach, my brain waging war against my body. My hands come up to push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Don’t push me away.” His hips press into mine, the outline of his erection thick and hard against my stomach. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” He speaks against my lips. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

“Now that I’ve had you. Now that I’ve tasted you, no one else gets to touch you.” He slips his tongue in my mouth, branding me with ownership. I shouldn’t like the way it feels. But I do. “You’re mine.”

“Never expect a narcissist to admit their wrongdoing. They’ll paint themselves as the hero or the victim, but they’ll never be the villain.”

I’ll never get to tell him that for all the ways I love his mother, I love him just as much.

The front door opens, my eyes widening when Chase and Mason walk in, giggling with each other like schoolboys.