Every night I climb through her bedroom window, telling myself that this is it. This is the night I’m going to fuck her. This is the night I’m going to take what I want because that’s what I do. I take what I want and leave someone else to clean up the mess.

And every morning, I pull away from her and force myself to leave, telling myself that I’m not coming back. That I can’t come back.

Because she deserves better.

Things I don’t know how to give her.

Someone I don’t know how to be.

Somewhere between leaving her in her bed and standing outside her window, I lose my conviction.

One more time.

One more night.

I tell myself that it’s okay.

I’m not hurting her.

I’m not touching her.

I can handle it.

One more night and then I’m done.

One more night and I’ll leave her alone for good.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve developed the habit of lying to myself as much as I do everyone else.

Because I knew this would happen eventually. And even though I know how fucking wrong it is, I wanted it to happen.

Needed it to happen.

From the second I felt her come on me, that very first time, I knew I was going to do it again. I had to.

Never really had a choice.

“I know, baby.” I murmur it in her ear, letting myself stroke the length of my fingers over the damp stretch of cotton between her thighs. Jesus, she’s fucking wet. So wet it’s seeping through her panties. The sweet smell of her arousal wraps around my cock and it gives a hard jerk. “Shhh...” It’s everything I can do to keep myself from pushing her panties to the side so I can fuck her, hard and fast, with my fingers. Yanking this goddamned pillow loose and getting her under me. Jerking her panties down so I can pound her with my cock. The thought of it has me flexing my hips in response, my dick pumping against the barrier between us, shadow fucking her from behind, over and over until I can feel my balls constrict. The small of my back go tight. The head of my cock start tingle.

Jesus Christ, what am I doing?

I force myself to stop.

This isn’t about you, asshole.

For once in your goddamned life, just give.

“I’m going to take care of you.” I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve never said it before. Never felt this overwhelming urge to make someone come.

Not true.

You felt it that day. The day she fucked your cock through your jeans. The day you sucked her nipples so hard you could see how pink and swollen they were from your mouth through the wet fabric of her shirt.

The memory has me groaning softly. Has me wanting her on top of me. My hands on her hips guiding her. Tilting her hips against mine so that every time she flexes them in my grip, her clit hits my cock. Again and again, until she’s coming for me. Falling apart around me, so I can hold her against me.

As much as I want it, I don’t trust myself to stop there. I don’t trust myself not to hurt her. Last time there were layers of clothes between us. It was broad daylight. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. What making her come was going to do to me.

This way is better. Safer for both of us.

Which is a goddamned lie. There’s nothing safe about any of this. Not for me and sure as fuck not for her.

Shoving aside the certainty that this is going to be something we both regret, I stroke her again and she shutters against me. Finding the edge of her panties and I push them to the side, my cock giving another hard jerk when I feel the slippery, wet seam of her pussy under my hand. Lifting my head, I look down at her. Watch my hand move between her legs. “Pull your shirt up.” I stroke her, tracing her soft, slick folds with my fingertips. “I need to see your tits.”

She reaches down to do as I say, jerking her tank up under her arms to expose her breasts. They’re perfect, just like her. Small and round, her nipples tight and swollen. My jaw goes tight, starts to ache because I’ve clamped it shut in an effort to keep it closed and away from her.

“Declan…” She breaths my name, her fingers tentatively tracing the swell of her breast like she isn’t sure if it’s the right thing to do. “I need…”

“Tell me.” I unhinge my jaw, the words scraping and catching against the gravel in my throat. I keep stroking her, using the entire length of my finger so I can rub the base of it against her throbbing clit. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Inside,” she pants softly.

Fuck.

Me.

“Please…” The fingers skating along the curve of her breast graze across her nipple and she catches her breath. “I need you inside me.”

“Shit. Okay…” Finding her entrance, I ease a single finger into her, and she whimpers softly in response. “Do you want me to stop?” I whisper it in her ear, frozen in place.

“No.” She tilts her hips into the pressure of my hand again, her own falling on top of mine. Fingers locked around my wrist, holding me in place. “More… I want—”

She loses whatever she was about to say when I withdraw my finger almost to the tip before stroking my way back in, giving her another slow, shallow thrust. Slipping my thumb up to the top of her slit, I slick it over her clit and she moans. Flexes her hips again, trying to take my finger deeper.

She does it again and groans, the sound tinged with frustration when I withdraw completely, despite the hold she has on me.

“Dec—” She pumps her hips again, her fingers tighten around my wrist, trying to push mine inside her when I don’t give her what she wants.

“No.” I push the arm trapped under my head lower, wrapping it around her chest to grip her arm. Lifting it, I tuck it against her chest, between her breasts. “My way, remember? Whatever I say.”

“Yes…” she whimpers softly when I brush my thumb against her nipple. “Your way. Whatev—” The last word falls away on a moan when I stroke into her again, stopping when I feel the barrier of her virginity pressing against the tip of my finger.

“When I take this it isn’t going to be with my finger.” I circle her clit with the pad of my thumb, pumping my finger in and out of her, slow and steady. Letting the pressure build for both of us. “When it happens, it’s going to be with my cock,” I whisper against her neck, my eyes screwed shut so tight I’m seeing stars. “I can already feel it. How tight you’re going to be. How hard you’re going to come on me…” I let go of her arm, reaching up to grip her jaw. Turning her face toward mine, I trace my tongue along her lower lip. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes.” Her hips buck forward uncontrollably and I have to temper my strokes, keeping them short and shallow when she begins to shake, her eyes dark and wide. Her gaze hooked into mine. “Declan…”

“Fuck.” I groan, deep and low in my chest. “Come for me. That’s it, baby…”

She gasps my name, her fingers tightening in my hair when I take her bottom lip between my teeth, nipping her hard and she cries out, her pussy clamping around my thrusting finger with a sudden, violent shudder that shakes the whole bed.

I take her mouth with mine, pushing my tongue past her parted lips, loving the way her fingers feel in my hair. Her hard, sensitive nipples, pressed against my forearm. The way each moan and sigh she makes belongs to me.

She belongs to me.

The thought comes out of nowhere and even though it’s wrong, more wrong than anything I’ve ever said or done, I don’t push the thought away. I don’t bury the feeling.

I own it.

Revel in it.

Tess is mine and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her from me.

Anyone.