SKYLAR
Despite the fact that my legs feel completely like jelly and every single brain cell I possess has melted into a fuzzy puddle, I somehow manage to find a shred of self-preservation. I plant my hands against his rock-hard chest and push back, tearing my lips from his with a wet, heavy gasp.
"T-Trey, stop!" My chest heaves against his as I stutter out. "I... I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!"
Ice-blue orbs are pitch-black with a hunger so intense it makes my lower stomach clench. "I don't give a fuck.”
I don’t even get to process his utter disregard for oral hygiene before he crushes his mouth over mine again, completely obliterating any remaining logical thoughts.
And if that doesn't make every single boundary I’ve ever built crumble into dust, what he does next utterly atom
