Hitched Volume 1 (Imperfect Love Book #1)

His words knock me breathless. What the hell just happened? And why does it have to make me tingle in the worst way?

The half praise, half dirty talk strikes a weak point I didn’t even know I had. Or maybe I only feel this way because it’s Noah who’s saying such sweet, filthy things, gazing at me so fervently. His husky voice softens and warms me, and I suddenly feel so exposed. Unshielded. But not in a bad way, not like a naked-at-the-important-meeting nightmare, because I know that Noah would never hurt me. He would never take advantage of my vulnerability.

Or maybe he would, but only in the ways that I secretly want.

Noah takes my hands, turns my palms up in surrender, his thumbs rubbing light circles onto the soft thin skin under my wrists. When I can’t repress the shiver that races through me, he grins like a wolf. Oh, he saw that reaction, all right. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I both hate it and love it.

“And I’d do just about anything to get my hands on your amazing body,” he continues mercilessly. “I’ve never seen a more perfect woman . . . every inch of you, tight ass and luscious tits and legs just made to wrap around my back. Kissing you the other night wasn’t nearly enough. I’d love to watch your expression change as I pound into you. Watch you give up control, turn off your brain and just feel.”

“Y-you don’t play fair,” I finally manage to stutter.

“Hey, that’s not how this works. Compliments, not insults. Believe me, I already have a pretty good idea of what you think my bad points are.”

“Uh . . .” I swallow. “You’re pretty cool too, but in a different way. Good with people and words and stuff, instead of numbers and strategy.”

“Is that why you’re blushing right now?”

In a way, yes. But his sculpted jaw, full lips, and piercing dark eyes are what make his words truly intoxicating. And the fact that he still hasn’t let go of my hands.

“You take charge, and sometimes I hate that, but sometimes . . . it’s nice to have a break.”

His smile turns mischievous. “Oh? I’ll be sure to make a note of that. Anything else?”

I retreat to safe, familiar ground. Harsh words, something I can deny later as just a joke. “Are you just trying to get me to admit you have a nice ass?”

But when his only response is a silky, dark chuckle, I realize my mistake. He wasn’t fooled at all-why did I ever think he would be?-and now I’ve backed myself into a corner. Literally and figuratively. As I talked, Noah slowly leaned closer, bit by bit, until I can just barely feel the tickle of his breath.

Suddenly, acutely aware of the rising temperature between us, I cut myself off. “Shouldn’t we get back? It’s rude to keep Miss Osbourne waiting.”

Noah’s stare is too intense for me to look away. “The only woman I’m interested in entertaining right now is you.”

I shift a fraction, needing to leave but wanting to stay, and I realize that my panties are soaking wet. Everything I never let myself feel or think about Noah rushes to the surface. My body doesn’t care that he’s a juvenile jerk. I hate that my libido is so totally out of my control. I hate that I’ve always had such a wicked crush on Noah. Fate must be laughing her ass off at me right now.

Noah leans even closer, stopping just short of contact. I can almost feel the brush of his lips against mine, and my stomach clenches with desire.

“Still only first base?” he whispers against my skin. “Or do you want more?”

I don’t answer. I’m not even sure I can speak. I just wet my lips.

That one tiny move is like loosening a coiled spring. Noah lunges forward to devour my mouth. My knees weaken with his expert onslaught. His strong arms wrap around me and his hands are everywhere, igniting my nerves, fingertips grazing what feels like every inch of bare skin. I feel a flash of frustration that my dress is so modest; I want his touch all over me, unrestrained.

He yanks our hips together and I feel his erection press into my belly. Something wild shoots through me, a fierce, territorial satisfaction. That hardness is all for me. Not Estelle, not any of his past conquests. I’m the one who’s making him feel this way right now. Such powerful, primal need aimed squarely at me and only me.

He’s all mine. The unbidden thought strikes deep into an animal part of me I never realized I had.

On fire, I cup his bulge through his pants, wanting to assert control and show off my sexual power. But that was a big mistake . . . emphasis on big. Feeling just how impressive and steely hard he is only makes me even more desperate. I groan and squeeze him in my palm.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” he growls out.

I giggle, feeling almost tipsy with lust. “You sure it’s our problem and not just yours?”

He abruptly draws back, pulling an involuntary noise of disappointment from my throat. But my fervor spikes again when he takes my hand and hurries me toward the nearby restroom. He pulls me inside and locks the door. I drop my purse in the corner just as he shoves me up against the wall.

Our mouths crash together again, lips and tongue moving like they were made for this. Our making out intensifies as his fingers fumble at the back of my dress. He finds the zipper, tugs it halfway down, then abandons it to push my sleeves down past my shoulders, trapping my upper arms.

I squeal in shock-then quickly clap my hand over my mouth-when he kneels to swirl his tongue around one nipple and pinch the other . . . hard.

“No bra tonight?” he murmurs between licks and suckles and gentle bites. “Naughty girl.”

I want to explain that this dress doesn’t work with a bra. I want to tell him to shut up and fuck me. But all I can do is tremble at the sparks of sensation shooting from my breasts straight to my clit.

“God, these are beautiful,” he says on a groan, taking my nipple in his mouth.

I can only watch, desperate, as he kisses my breasts, and let out helpless moans.

“And so sensitive.” He moves to the other, giving it a wet kiss that ends with an audible sucking sound. He hikes up my skirt and runs his fingers along the center of my panties. “Just as I thought,” he murmurs. “Nice and wet for me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but Noah chooses that moment to kiss me again.

Then he lifts the side of my panties and his fingers slide in. No fumbling at all now, no fooling around, no teasing-he knows exactly what I’m dying for. One long finger parts me, petting me, putting just the right amount of pressure on that swollen bud. I mumble some unintelligible groan. Noah’s tongue continues working against mine. Then two deft fingers crook deep inside me and the heel of his hand rubs my aching, swollen clit. Heat surges through my core and I choke out a cry of relief. Yes . . .

Noah growls with possessive satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, baby. This pussy is mine now, and we both know it. I’m going to take damn good care of my wife . . .”

His dirty talk pisses me off and sets my body on fire all at the same time. I don’t know what to feel. I can’t think at all. I just hang on to Noah, struggling to keep standing while the white-hot pleasure coils tighter and tighter. I bite my lip hard to muffle my moans.

“Fuck . . . Noah . . .” I moan, rolling my hips hard against his hand. I’m so agonizingly close. Just a few more seconds . . .Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.