One minute he was pushing me against the wall pressing his lips to mine, the next he was throwing me down onto his bed and tugging off his shirt.
His hands were all over my body. His hardness was pressing against the front of my jeans. I wrapped my legs around his waist, needing him closer. I had waited too long for this.
I ran my fingers all the way down his sculpted back, brushing them against two scars. He grabbed my wrists harshly and pinned them above me, then fingered the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
For almost a month, I had dreams of his fingers on my skin, his lips on my chest, his c**k between my legs. But I never imagined that it would feel this good.
I ran my hands through his hair, making him groan. A wave of cinnamon engulfed us, and I inhaled the scent—
