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“You know I don’t want your money.”
“And you know I don’t want to hear your protests.” I kinda love this guy. He’s my only friend, no matter how disillusioned he is by the lies I’ve told. “I’ll return the keys as soon as I get back.”
“Don’t rush. I can deal without a car if you need it longer.”
“You’re too damn good to me.” I wink at him and make for the door, energized to get out of this city for a while. I’ll leave before daybreak, clear my head with the three-hour drive, lick old wounds while I visit my family, then return home with a plan for the future.
I push open the door to the street, and the heavy glass falls away under the hand pulling from the other side.
“Hey.” The deep, familiar voice slays me. Grips me. Punishes me.
I ignore the temptation to fall into lust and continue onto the sidewalk, only chancing a brief glance at my mystery man.
A brief glance is all it takes for his image to sear my retinas—worn, ripped jeans, a black jacket with the cuffs hitched a few inches up his ta
He releases the door, remaining outside as I pivot my attention toward the curb and watch for traffic. The light crunch of his steps follows me. Intuition tells me he’s a foot away. I can feel him. Sense him. His interest raises the hair on the back of my neck and makes me shudder.
“You been watching me, princess?”
Fuck. Fuck.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind the attention.”
I roll my eyes and turn to face him. “I’ve gotta go.”
In a blink, the subtle humor glistening in those hazel irises is gone, and a delicious scowl takes its place. “You’re not going to join me for a drink?”
“Not tonight.” Not any night. Not when my stomach turns in knots whenever he’s close. I step onto the road, wait for a passing car, then jog to my side of the street. I’m yanking at my own ripcord, trying to fast-track my departure, but my heart is thumping in excitement, ignoring the inevitable crash and burn that will happen if I don’t get out of here.
“Then when?” The question comes from right behind me. “What’s got you in such a hurry to leave…again?”
Shit.
“I’ve got a big day tomorrow. I need to get up early.” I reach my building and enter the pin code into the keypad. The panel beeps, the lock clicks in release, and I pull the door wide, only to have his fierce hand push it shut.
I stiffen, all my muscles frozen and humming as I drown under his intense stare.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.
I sigh and fight the good fight, trying not to lick my lower lip to give him the encouragement we both crave. “I’m heading out of town.”
“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow. “Where are you headed?”
Far away from his questions, his interest, and his temptation. I can’t keep encouraging the distraction. As much as I want to deny it, I thoroughly enjoy his attention. I’m suffocating in my need to breathe him deep, and not just into my lungs—into my life.
I shouldn’t have to remind myself it’s imperative to lay low and focus. The police are looking for me, whether they know it or not. And I have to find Jacob before karma deals me a heavy punishment.
But this man sees more than he should. Those hands touch more than I want to allow. And whatever is going on in that mind of his is sure to create havoc.
No more.
I hitch my chin high. “I’m visiting my boyfriend.”
How do you like them apples?
The tight clench of his jaw is a blatant sign he doesn’t like my apples at all.
“Is that right?” he snarls.
“Yep.”
His nostrils flare, and he licks his lower lip in such a delightfully slow roll of predatory intent that I have to squeeze my thighs together to stem the growing throb.
“And this boyfriend of yours, does he mind that you’re fucking me?”
Chills. So many chills.
“Fucked,” I clarify. “We did it once, and it was a mistake.”
He steps closer, looming over me. “That’s not the vibe I’m getting.”
I squeak internally. On the outside, I stare like a motherfucker. “Really?” I inch into him, straightening my shoulders, raising my chin. “You’re looming over me, glaring. To me, the only vibe here is threatening.”
He flashes a smirk. “And I bet you’re wet as hell because of it.”
Touché, asshole.
I turn my back and re-enter the pin code into the keypad. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.”
The panel beeps, the lock releases, but he’s pressed into me before I can reach for the door, his thighs nestled behind mine, his chest against my back.
“Say it to my face,” he demands.
My heart races, the rapid beat out of control. I swallow, knowing a believable declaration will be difficult to achieve. Hard, because this prick has my ovaries in his tight-fisted grip, but not impossible.
I turn, my brows raised in superiority. “I. Don’t. Want. You.”
I plaster myself to the wall, hoping for distance. He’s hot. Scorching. Every inch of his body pressed into mine is an inch of heavenly co
He leans closer, his breath warming my lips. “Bullshit.”
I want to succumb, to surrender to his erotic distraction but…
He strips the decision away from me, charging forward, taking my mouth with his. He steals my breath, his tongue swiping my lips to demand immediate entrance.
Goddamnit.
I can’t deny him. I can’t deny myself. I’m going down with this ship. Going down faster and harder than a cheerleader on prom night.
I grip his jacket, kissing him as if my life depends on the enthusiasm I place into our contact.
He growls, the rumble of his chest vibrating through me. He pushes me harder into the wall and grips my hips, his fingers digging into my jeans. His erection grinds against my pubic bone, making me want to beg.
No matter how risky or careless or insane, I want this man. I need him, if only to uplift me for those few short moments before I come crashing back down.
He retreats, retracting his devilish affection in a slap of withdrawal. His heavy breathing brushes my lips, my chin, my cheeks. Those fingers continue to dig into me. The light from inside highlights the flecks of color in his eyes, the greens, the browns as he stares at me with such sweet bewilderment that I know he thinks this is crazy, too.
I’ve kicked him out of my apartment and thrown his gun out a window. I’ve vomited in front of him, then launched into attack mode, before falling into bed in a mass of our tangled limbs.
This doesn’t make sense. It’s not what attraction is supposed to be. But attraction is what it is.
“Lie to me again,” he murmurs. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
My heart climbs into my throat, restricting, suffocating.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you could,” he taunts, releasing my hips. His fingers find the waistband of my jeans, unclasping the button, lowering the zipper. A hand delves into my pants, beneath my panties, sliding straight to my pussy.
I gasp, not in shock, in undiluted pleasure. Everything tingles. Vibrates.
“For someone who doesn’t want me, you sure are wet.”
His fingers plunge inside me, two or three, I’m not sure. I’m too focused on grasping his shoulders to stop myself from crumpling to the floor. He twists, pulses, strokes. He pulls no stops in his masterful manipulation as he peers down at me, stalking my expression.
I want to succumb, not just physically, but emotionally, too. I want to admit how I feel. To tell him the tiny morsels of time in his presence are like a feast to my starving soul.