His hands were in my hair. His tongue was twisted and turned all around my own. I was pulled off the toilet and onto his lap as he fell back with a dull thud against the wall. Race wasn’t a small guy, and the bathroom wasn’t exactly roomy, which meant I was all over him and the towel I had been using for minimal coverage was a thing of the past. I was very naked, very on top of him. His rock hardness and the sharp sting of the tile against my injured knee barely registered because all the parts of me touching all the parts of him were hot and tingly and things like cuts and scrapes didn’t matter. His chest under the thin material of his white wife-beater was strong and warm. I wanted to curl into him, fall into him, and put everything else I was always holding on to down. As dangerous as he was for me to get tangled up with, feeling him, pressing into him, made me feel safe, and had security floating around my head in such a heady way that I practically mauled him trying to get closer.
I tunneled my fingers through his hair and heard him groan into my mouth. If he was going to adopt the habit of kissing me senseless every single time he felt I needed a distraction, I was going to have to make a point of getting out of sorts around him more often. I felt his body react underneath mine. Felt him get even harder through the layer of denim separating us, and his hands got tighter in my hair. There was always an edge to Race, a razor-fine line that lurked behind all that Midas glow he possessed that hinted at a stronger core, a wilder side to him that I think he kept out of sight from the rest of the world. He was so much more than a disinherited rich kid, had so much more going on than being Bax’s partner in crime, but it was so easy to be blinded by his sheer beauty and suave manner that I think all the facets to him were easily overlooked. Right now, with his hands getting a little rough, his breath rasping in and out, and his eyes glinting all hot and dark, there was no mistaking that he was capable of doing really bad things to me . . . God, how I wanted him to do all of them.
He pulled back a little and slicked his tongue over the full curve of his bottom lip. That gesture alone could have made me spontaneously orgasm, but he trailed his thumbs along the edge of my jaw, used the edges of his palms to tilt my head back a little, and leaned forward to kiss me softly behind the ear. His mouth was indulgent, sucking, tickling, and knew every single secret spot I seemed to have. I was shivering so hard and whimpering in such a needy way, I had to do something to stop myself from coming apart in his hands like a cheaply made toy. He was handling me like he owned me. Like he had been doing it forever. Like he wanted to give me back everything I had given away in the last year, and I was going to start crying again if I didn’t do something with my hands or with my mouth.
I pressed forward, bent down so I could seal my mouth back over his, and kissed him with all the desperation, all the fearless anticipation, I could feel swirling around in the tiny space with us. I had never been locked in such a passionate embrace, been so turned on and worked up in such an unromantic setting, but none of it mattered because Race’s touch was electric and everything about him and me just seemed to HAVE to happen.
I used my teeth to nip at his lip, swirled my tongue across his, and breathed him in and out. I clutched at his silky hair and tried to refrain from grinding on the erection that was becoming more and more persistent where my legs were spread wantonly across his lap. I wasn’t a sexual dynamo or a shrinking violet. I was just a normal girl with normal needs, but something about this guy made my head go crazy, made my blood go hot and fiery, and I wanted to do things, say things that I had never even thought of before. That was the danger of Race, always making me want what I couldn’t and shouldn’t have.
He pulled back from my ravenous kiss and we looked at each other with lust-filled eyes. We were both breathing like long-distance runners and there was no missing the reaction from either of our bodies to the other. I was all liquid and needy, he was all hard and ready. I think all we were waiting for was the other to give a solid green light. I was naked and sprawled all over him, and I didn’t know how much more welcoming I could be when he suddenly used the edge of one of his knuckles and guided it across my collarbone and down the center of my chest. It made my heart skip a beat and both of my nipples pucker into painful points of readiness, knowing they were undoubtedly his destination.
I exhaled his name, curled my fingers tighter into his hair, and prepared myself for what was going to come next. His mouth on me . . . anywhere on me . . . yes, please. Only all the excitement, all the arousal and pulsating need that was throbbing between my legs and in my blood, went still, froze when I heard my phone go off from somewhere in the midst of the pile of torn and bloody clothes I had left on the floor. Race was good, really good, and I was turned on, more so than I think I had ever been in my life, but the ring tone was the one I had assigned specifically to Karsen, and it struck me in a blinding rush that I should’ve been home hours ago. I hadn’t told anyone what was going on or where I was. A call this late from her when she had school the next morning couldn’t mean anything good.
I scrambled up off Race’s rock-hard form so fast his head actually thunked back against the wall with an echoing sound. I pawed through the pile of clothes until I found my cell and sprang to my feet. I pulled on the long-abandoned T-shirt resting on the sink and wandered out of the tiny bathroom.
“Karsen?”
“Brysen, will you be home soon?” My sister’s voice was shaky and unsure. I wanted to kick myself. I looked over my shoulder as Race followed me out into the minuscule living space.