I want. And I need. And hell if I’m not going to taste her again, fuck her mouth with my tongue to try and show her how badly I want to do the same elsewhere.
Prove to her how she could never be inconsequential even though that’s all I really want her to be. The only thing I can allow when the cards fall where they may.
I take a step closer. Her back bumps against the wall, and I lift my hand toward her face but then pull it back.
Somehow I have a conscience and it’s just decided to show the hell up. Because this is perfect fucking timing to tell me I can’t do this to her, fuck with her to fix me. Like I didn’t know already that it’s not fair to her, something she doesn’t deserve.
Sex without strings is something I’ve always done so why am I thinking this now? Why didn’t I think it earlier when I ditched the Merit execs? I’m not a good guy so why, when all I want is to slide between her thighs and lose myself for a bit, do I suddenly feel like I need to warn her in yet another way?
I stare at her, try to convey my thoughts and hope she gets them.
Run! I want scream to her. Tell her to take the fuck off down the hall and not look back. Explain that I’m a selfish bastard who takes what he wants without worries about collateral damage because I have a feeling that once I have her I’m going to need to destroy some things to prevent me from wanting her again.
Ease the ache. Bury the pain. Fuck her over in the end because she’ll hope there’s more when I can only give her less.
Can you handle me, Rylee? You fix the broken but there’s no hope left here. Can you live with that? Can you handle temporary when your eyes say you’re a forever? Do you want me? Can you live with sex and secrets and a selfish son of a bitch who will use you in the end?
Tell me no. Please tell me no because I can’t find it in myself to walk the fuck away like I should. Make the choice for me. Push me away. Hurt me.
She holds my gaze and then lifts her chin in a subtle nod.
Fuck! Every part of my body screams the word, each one holding a different meaning to the reaction.
She just said yes, and I swallow the fact that my warnings were all in my head. My excuse to fall back and ease my guilt later when I walk away.
But right now? Right now, I’m taking what she’s offering. Restraint obliterated and my dick in command.
Add another demon to the pile within because I sure as fuck don’t deserve a quick stop in Heaven before I take the long ride to Hell, but I’m taking it.
Without thought, my hands frame her face and my lips are on hers. I’m hungry for the taste of her, desperate for the feel of her. Smooth skin, gentle moans, soft against hard.
She’s like a fix to an addiction. I thought if I had a taste, I’d want it less, but fuck me, all I can think of is more. Take more, want more, feel more, need more.
One hand is on her neck, the other on her back, and I pull her against me, need her against me from chest to knee. My mouth takes, nips, and sips. Her reactions spur me on. The moan in her throat when I suck on her tongue. The arch of her back when I tug on her lip with my teeth. Her body begs for the things her lips refuse to ask me for. And fuck if it’s not the hottest thing to know she wants this as desperately as I do, but I need to be in control here. Need to own the situation and the shit I keep pushing out of my head.
Her hands fist my shirt, need burning a hole through me, my dick aching, my body waiting to claim. In reflex, I grab her hands and pin them above the wall over our heads so she’s completely open to me.
Mine to control. To set the pace. To prevent her from revealing the shit that needs to stay behind lock and key.
I bring my free hand down to hold her chin so I can brand her lips again. Kiss her senseless so she has no other fucking option than to say yes to the question I so desperately want to ask. But when my fingers hold her there, her eyes flutter up to look into mine, dark lashes framing the most unique of colors. And although my dick is rock hard and wanting to act, I stumble over thoughts I don’t mean to say but that fall out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Not inconsequential, Rylee. You could never be inconsequential.” I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers to give myself a moment to try and figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. “No—you and me—together, that would make you mine. Mine.”
My confession shocks me. I mean it’s one thing to think the words and another fucking thing to say them. Hell yes, they’re true, but since when do I say crap like this? Give a woman a drawer for her shit when I only plan on letting her pass through the ever-revolving bedroom door.
My honesty scares the shit out of me. Makes me question when I never second guess myself.
I take a deep breath and step back, releasing her hands still held by mine, our eyes never breaking. And I don’t know what it is now that I’m asking her because hell if I know. I’m confused as fuck, desperate to bury myself in her and at the same time trying to figure out what this feeling in the pit of my stomach is.
It’s always been pleasure to bury the pain. The sex to quiet my head, override the shame coating my soul, so why the hell is my head screaming right now?
She reaches out to me, her fingers scraping against my abdomen, and fuck if my body doesn’t jolt at the connection. I cuffed her hands because I’m used to being in control, used to setting the pace, so why the fuck am I not stopping her. Why do her fingers feel like she’s lighting my skin on fire? Like she’s burning me with her touch.
I close my eyes, her hands on my back, and my breath labored with the desire that’s so strong I feel like I’m ready to snap. To take without asking.