"I shouldn't be here," I stammer, even as I trail kisses down her neck.
"I want you here." Her voice is breathless, certain. She tugs at my shirt, then her fingers unbutton it, shoving it off my arms.
We stumble toward her bed, shedding clothes as we go. My hands explore the curves of her body, memorizing every inch of her. When I lower her onto the mattress, the reality of what we're doing hits me again.
"Janie—"
She silences me with her mouth, pulling me down on top of her. "Don't think. Just do."
My hands tangle in her hair as she wraps her legs around me. The heat of her skin against mine burns away every rational thought.
"Fuck, you're burning me alive," I whisper against her collarbone, overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume mingled with desire.
She can’t form words, only sound, only raw and wrecked.
Every nerve in my body rebels against reason. My hands fist in her hair, dragging her closer as her calves drag along the backs of my thighs, pulling me deeper.
The thin cotton of her dress rides up, baring the heat of her thighs against mine.
Downstairs, the faint tick of the grandfather clock drifts up, a brutal reminder that this is the one place, the one girl, I can never touch.
I should stop. I should pull away before this becomes something I can’t take back.
But then she moves beneath me—soft, certain—and that thought goes up in flames.
“Jesus, Janie.” My voice scrapes out of me, rough against her throat. “You feel so good.”
Her mouth finds my ear, a broken plea spilling out. "Warren."
I’ve heard that voice a thousand times, teasing, whining, laughing, but never like this. Never pleading. Never breaking me wide open.
I push her back into the mattress, my mouth tracing the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the soft catch of her breath. Her hands fist in my hair, tugging me closer.
I fumble at my belt, shoving my jeans down. She wriggles under me, panties sliding over her hips with a quick tug, her dress bunched high around her waist. The sight of her, spread out and waiting, nearly undoes me.
"Condom," I rasp, already reaching for my wallet.
Her hand stops me. "Don’t. I’m on the pill."
For a breath, I hover, hesitation seeping in. The last shred of sanity begs me to stop. The house creaks in the silence below us, a reminder that her family is just downstairs. That I shouldn’t be here.
Then she reaches for me again. Her fingers wrap tightly around my cock, guiding me down. The tip grazes her dewy heat, and the contact jolts through me like an electric current. Her knees lift, pressing against my sides as her hips rise, silently begging.
God, help me. I can't...
“Janie—”
“Please,” she breathes.
The plea hits like a spark to dry tinder. I press forward, slow at first, the first push stealing my breath. She’s hot, tight, her body gripping around me as if she’s been waiting forever.
A groan rips from my chest, part pain, part ecstasy.
"Fuck." I bury my face against her throat, shuddering. "You’re… unreal."
She arches beneath me, nails carving into my back, gasps breaking against my mouth as I drive deeper. Her heels dig into me, demanding more. I grab her thigh, anchoring it against my side as I thrust harder, the silky slide of her body pulling me under.
Her head tips back, a silent cry tearing loose, and the sound shreds what little control I had left. I squeeze my eyes shut, teeth gritted as the pressure coils low and savage in my spine.