God, I needed him. My hands were covered in paint, but I didn’t care. I grabbed him, needing more, needing him right then.
I had waited all week, and I could not wait a second longer.
“Chloe,” he growled. “Chloe, I can’t. I can’t.”
“I want you,” I said.
It was enough. He groaned as I pressed another kiss against him, rolling onto my side.
He shoved down his pants, exposing his c**k. It was stiff and throbbing, and I slid my fingers alongside the shaft in wonder.
“Jesus, Chloe,” he said.
Then his mouth seized mine again, and I was kissing him back, wanting him, wanting nothing more than for him to take me right then and there.
He rolled over so that he was on top of me. One of his hands clasped my cheek, and his thumb brushed along under my eye alongside my cheekbone
