The Last Person - Page 14

He lifts an eyebrow.

I know. I know … I sound completely insane.

“Step inside for a minute.”

“No way.”

Eric smirks. “Why not? You afraid of me?”

“Did you finish that book?”

Creases form along his forehead. “What? Books? We’re talking books again?”

I lift my chin and blink slowly. Damn right we’re talking books again. I know it shouldn’t be a dealbreaker, but it is. It’s a character trait I can’t overlook.

“No. You kicked me out of book club. I have no incentive to read it.”

“I like the book. You seem to like me and don’t want me ghosting you. There’s your incentive to read it.” I reverse my ninety-degree turn and take quick strides to my apartment door.

“Do I have to like it?”

Inserting the key, I close my eyes and clench my teeth, but I don’t respond.

Over the next week, I don’t go to great lengths to avoid him. We pass occasionally, and he’s always toting a copy of The Last Person and sporting the most ridiculous smile.

“I’ve read the required chapters,” he breaks our silence, following me up the stairs after we arrive back at the lofts at the same time Friday afternoon. “Does that earn me entrance to book club tomorrow?”

“Can you behave?” I open the door and continue onward as he picks up his pace behind me.

“At book club?” he asks, snagging my hand just before his door.

I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold, traps the book under his arm, and unlocks the door to his loft.

“Of course at book club. What else would I be talking about? Let go of me.”

He drags me into his apartment, shuts the door, and has the audacity to toss the book on the floor.

“What are you—” He frames my face and kisses me, pressing my back to the door.

God … why can this man kiss so well? It’s unfair. A drug that should be illegal. He’s dangerous. And I know this because I don’t want to be caught in his web. However, with his mouth on mine, I can’t help but surrender to his hands sliding around my backside, lifting me up and guiding my legs around his waist. I can’t help but grind against the head of his erection.

“I got to the sex scene,” he mumbles, sucking and biting along my ear and neck. “Now I know why you like that book so much.”

Eric slides his hand up my shirt, yanking my bra out of his way, just like Andrew does with Jasmine in the book. When our lips connect again, he carries me to the living room and sits on the sofa with me on his lap. It’s Jasmine and Andrew.

He removes my shirt and his shirt. We kiss some more. Then I take the lead, shoving him back before crawling off his lap. I bite my lip while sliding out of my shorts and panties. He reclines more on the sofa, so most of his body engulfs it—just like Andrew.

I straddle his waist and lean forward, kissing my way up his chest to his neck … to his mouth.

“Higher,” he whispers.

He did. He read it and he liked it. I have never felt more turned on in my life. I grip the arm of the sofa with both hands while crawling up his body. Rubbing myself against his torso.

Eric grips my hips. “Higher, baby.” Andrew says those same words to Jasmine as he guides her to straddle his face the way Eric guides me to straddle his face.

I cry out to the gods, my head thrown back in ecstasy just like Jasmine does when Eric’s tongue makes its first swipe. It’s teasing and seductive. It’s empowering to be above him like this, yet I surrender to his hold on me. I let him move my pelvis to his pleasure and mine.

After I see an entire galaxy of stars behind my eyes, I waste no time repositioning myself between his legs.

“Baby, you don’t have to …” Eric gives me a weak protest with a drunken gaze, just like Andrew gave Jasmine.

“I know.” I smirk while unfastening his jeans and pulling out his erection.

His first word is a sharp “fuck” as he fists my hair. Minutes later, he repeats that word, but it’s drawn out while his face contorts into something so beautiful. It’s exactly how I pictured Andrew.

Life isn’t fiction, I get it, even if I don’t like it sometimes. So I don’t expect this to play all the way out. But … it does.

Eric kisses me like he didn’t just have a release. He carries me to the bedroom. It’s desperate and passionate. We don’t have the fictional “I’m clean are you clean” conversation. He does the real-life responsible thing and wraps it up before we do it over and over again in every position we can maneuver our bodies.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Romance
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