Make Me Yours. Kendall Ryan
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tugged the covers up around me.
We settled into bed, and Cohen rolled over to face me. ‘Is this weird—you staying here?’
I shook my head. ‘Not if we’re okay with it.’
He nodded.
Without realizing it, my hand had wandered onto his stomach. He shifted under my palm and inhaled sharply. I looked up and met his eyes. They were inquisitive and locked on mine. And even in the darkness of his bedroom, I could see his curiosity at what might happen next.
His hand came to rest at the base of my throat. It was heavy and warm. He lightly brushed his fingertips along my bare collarbone, tracing a lazy pattern on my skin. The roughness of his fingers against that soft, innocent patch of flesh set my heart racing. I wanted more.
I licked my lips, waiting. He bent his head down to mine, while at the same time burying his hand in my hair. He lightly kissed the corner of my jaw. ‘God you’re beautiful,’ he murmured.
I swallowed roughly at his declaration. He was so open and honest. I didn’t want or need touching and romantic, but every caress, every gaze from Cohen felt like more. This was nothing like being with Stu and that scared the shit out of me.
I pressed my hand against his stomach, forcing him flat to the bed, then moved on top of him, one of my thighs on each side of his. He looked up at me, full of curiosity and desire. I leaned down and kissed his lips. His tongue found its way into my mouth and I pressed my hips into his while our tongues mingled and flirted. He was the perfect kisser. Not too timid, but not overeager either. His hand came up to cup my jaw and he tilted my head, finding the right angle to deepen the kiss. A wave of desire for him shot straight between my legs. I let out a ragged groan and Cohen placed his hands on my shoulders, applying pressure to break the kiss. I leaned back slightly and met his eyes. ‘Holy hell,’ I muttered.
He chuckled. ‘Yeah.’ His head fell back against the pillow and he closed his eyes. ‘I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Eliza.’
I bristled at his use of my full name. ‘Because you’re seeing someone?’
He opened his eyes again and looked at me. ‘Actually, no. We only went out a few times, and I haven’t talked to her since I met you.’
Since he met me? ‘Oh. Then…?’ What’s the problem? I added silently.
His hands moved from my shoulders to my waist and he tugged me in a little tighter toward him. I took it as a sign and angled my mouth to meet his, then waited.
Cohen’s lips brushed against mine, barely touching, his warm breath mingling with my own. It was incredibly hot and made me anxious for more. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but God I want you.’
Without further protests or explanations we continued kissing for several minutes. I found myself on my back with Cohen hovering above me, kissing and nibbling on my collarbone, jaw, and neck. I rocked my hips against him, eager for more contact. I forgot this kind of foreplay existed. My appointments with Stu were usually straight to the point, insert object A into object B. And most other guys I’d been with were the same way.
‘Fuck, you feel good,’ I murmured in between short breaths.
I felt him smile against my skin.
I was two seconds away from begging him to fuck me when he suddenly stopped and pulled back to look at me. ‘You. Are. Trouble.’ He peppered my lips with kisses, punctuating each word.
I couldn’t help but grin. It’d been a long time since I’d been told I was trouble. Guys typically appreciated that I was an instigator. Sensing that Cohen wanted to stop, I scooted out from under him and up toward the headboard until I was half sitting. He sat next to me, propped up in the same way, trying to get his breathing under control.
I felt dizzy and confused. I tried not to frown and adjusted my shirt, which had ridden up to expose my belly. Cohen’s eyes flashed hungrily at my skin, before looking away. I didn’t understand what was stopping Cohen from wanting more with me. Was I not his type?
‘Are you okay?’ Cohen asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he took my hand and turned to face me. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know you’re not looking for a relationship.’
I sensed he was trying to find the right words, but it was also something more.
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun though, right?’
He let out a ragged breath. ‘You’re toxic to my willpower,’ he whispered, as if talking to himself. ‘Growing up with a single mom, who was only a teenager when she had me, she drilled into me to never to get a girl pregnant. The way he left her… God.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’ He stared up at the ceiling and pulled in another breath. ‘I vowed to make something of myself. I’ve been working full time since I was fifteen, became a volunteer firefighter when I was eighteen, and I vowed to never treat a woman the way my mother was treated.’
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