Enemies to 🔥Rom com
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Charles Winston Mayer-Chaz-is your typical trust fund, never gonna grow up playboy. His carefree bachelor existence is filled with women, money, and limited responsibilities in NYC is interrupted by the untimely de...
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"Sit down," I demand, gesturing to the leather sofa. At least I attempt to demand. It actually comes out sounding more like a question. Chaz's hands remain firm against my waist, pinning my hips to the wall as I offer a playful smirk.
His brows raise with a smug-ass smile, shaking his head. "Nah." He chuckles before sliding his tongue leisurely up the base of my neck, returning me to some form of mindless, sex-crazed putty. "I'd prefer—"
"Do you want this or not?" I push him off me, unclasping my bra, letting it slip to the ground, watching his reaction as I stand naked in front of him. Besides my heels and underwear—which are still wrapped around my ankles—I'm bare ass.
His mouth spreads to a wide grin before he wets his lips. He takes a step from where I'm pressed against his living room wall, eyes trailing up and down my body.
I pull my arms into myself, flush heating my face, a bit self-conscious that I'm now full frontal—suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Chaz stares at me like he's about to pounce. Ripped shirt hanging open, revealing the etched muscles of his torso, not to mention the extraordinary V that has me throbbing to see where it ends.
He seizes my wrists, moving them from shielding anything. "Oh, I wanna do this, trust me." His thumb traces my lips, and he grips my jaw in a way that sends jolts of pleasure straight down. Surprised there's not a puddle—for real. "As long as you do." Green eyes study me with a stern look. I nod. "This isn't a deal though, alright?" I sense the concern in his tone. "No deals. I want you, you want me."
"Fine." I smile over his slight frown, drawing in the fresh scent of his cologne. "I want to." I definitely want to.
His lips cover mine, swallowing them in slow kisses, tongue gently teasing, fingers weaving into my hair. I slip the shirt from his arms, relishing in the toned muscles flexing beneath my touch. Broad and bare shoulders, defined back, chiseled chest—heading down.
Damn, he's in shape.
His mouth moves faster, kissing me as if I'll disappear, stealing the air from my lungs. One less article of clothing—one step closer.
The kiss grows deeper, more passionate, feverish even as our hands explore. Nails scraping, fingertips digging in, low growls hum from our throats as we feel each other up. Or down. Or all around.
I'd never peg him to be such a kisser. My lips are actually becoming numb from the extreme overuse. I'm in shock, or perhaps awe, that his tongue can still work so well after that—"Holy shit!" I groan as he grinds his bulge over me once more.
Not wanting to waste any more time—plus, we gotta get back to work—I step out of my underwear and heels, giving me even more of a height disadvantage. Chaz leans down, mouth hovering over my breast. He flicks, teasing my nipple, achingly taut under his lips. A moan escapes as he bites down.
