Passing His Guard

Aiden cracked open an eye, pi

She gasped. Shock and outrage made her impulsive and reckless. Without thinking better of it, she grabbed the flat disc of his masculine nipple and pinched him—hard. Aiden flinched, barking out a surprised curse.

“You’re going to have a lot more than a headache,” she snapped, refusing to let go, and taking sadistic pleasure in wiping that arrogant smirk off his too-handsome face. But her win was a short victory. Perhaps she should have considered the wisdom of taking on an MMA fighter, because in less than two seconds she was on her back, arms pi

“Not so fu

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or playing—perhaps a little of both. “Let me up,” she bucked her hips, a half-assed attempt to displace 185 pounds of hard, muscled fighter.

He didn’t budge. She struggled beneath him, trying to work herself free, but his grip only tightened, his body hardening to stone as a low growl tore from his throat. “Fuck, Rya

“Then let me up!”

“Not until you tap.”

“What? You’re insane. I’m not tapping for you.”

“Then get comfortable, sweetheart, because until you do, I’m not moving.”

For good measure, Aiden ground his hips between her parted thighs, letting her feel the full force of his arousal against the sensitive bead of her sex. A jolt of heat arrowed into her core, releasing a flood of desire she’d been fighting like hell to hold back. The thin cotton of her pajama pants provided little barrier to his Hanes-covered cock, and soon her body’s moisture would betray her aching need for this man.

Pride and principle warred with self-preservation.

“Tap,” he mocked, arching his pierced brow, daring her to push him further.

“Never.”

Aiden chuckled, a deep, throaty rumble she felt all the way to her toes. With eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head, stopping just before his lips would brush against hers. Seconds ticked by. Her breath stalled in her lungs. He wouldn’t . . . would he?

“Tap,” he growled. The moist heat of his minty breath kissed her lips but his flesh did not. He was bluffing . . . right? Did she really know him well enough to take that risk? By the unwavering intensity of his amber stare the answer to that would be a no. Apparently sleep deprivation was skewing her good judgment, because the insane impulse to see how far this fighter was prepared to go in order to win was too tempting to resist.

He thought he had her all figured out, did he?—thought that he could intimidate her with his body, bully her into submission. Well, he had another thing coming. Someone should really teach this guy a lesson, and Rya

“You want me to tap?” she whispered, smiling sweetly. “You first.” She closed the scant distance separating them and kissed him. Aiden froze. For a moment, she thought he was going to pull back. When he didn’t, she couldn’t help but smile against his lips—another win. He didn’t move, nor did he kiss her back, holding himself stone-still, as if he wasn’t certain he trusted her motives. Smart man.

What the hell was she doing? Which seemed to be his mirroring thought when he tensed as her tongue traced his bottom lip, teasing over the loop piercing. His breath passed his parted lips in shortened pants. He seemed to be at war with himself, the energy coiled inside him stringing his muscles ripcord tight.

If she was honest, she’d admit to using this game to sate her wicked curiosity. Did he really taste as good as she remembered, did he kiss with enough skill and passion to wipe all reason from her mind? What would it take to break this fighter?—to make him tap?

She found her answer when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on his lip ring, gently tugging the metal loop. A tortured growl tore from his throat that sounded more like a harsh curse, and he crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue unapologetically pushed past her lips, invading and conquering. She tried to meet the demanding thrust, the tangled caress, but she quickly found herself drowning in this man. His free hand dove into her hair, fisting in her curls with enough tension to shatter the illusion that she had any semblance of control here.

Nothing about Aiden’s kiss was gentle or wooing, nothing about his touch coaxing or courting. He seemed pissed off, almost as if he resented wanting her. Everything about his kiss, his touch, felt punishing and punitive, which only made it more humiliating in the way it excited her, the way her body came alive beneath his. She’d never thought herself the kind of woman that liked to be handled rough, not that she’d had enough experience with bed partners to know what she liked. Every nerve ending tingled with awareness, her core heating until the internal fire raging inside her turned the blood in her veins to molten lava.

God help her, he tasted just as good as she remembered. Aiden released his grip on her wrists and grabbed her hip, anchoring her to the mattress as he ground the steely ridge of his erection against the cotton cloth barring him entrance. Were they not still clothed, he would have been balls deep inside her right now. And that was her first warning as to just how far over her head she was—and Aiden didn’t appear to have any intention of stopping.

“Fuck, Rya

He rocked against her again, sending little jolts of pleasure shooting into her core. Her muscles contracted, an empty glove aching to be filled. If he kept touching her like this, grinding his arousal against her sensitive clit, she was going to come. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nagging thought that this wasn’t a good idea, though right now, she was hard pressed to remember why.

“I’ve never tasted lips as sweet as yours.” His hand slid underneath her shirt, capturing her breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh. He groaned—a gravelly, tormented, erotic sound. “So perfect . . . the softest I’ve ever felt.” Though meant as a compliment, being compared to the other women he’d been with was an unwelcome reminder of the one he was promised to. The briefest flare of jealousy fired in her veins at the thought of Aiden kissing another woman like this—touching someone else and showering her with the same praise meant for her alone. Guilt assailed her as flesh warred with conscience. She had no right to feel jealous or possessive over this man. She’d known all along he was engaged, and she should be ashamed of herself for being that woman—the one who lacked the self-respect and integrity not to mess around with a taken man. And what did that say about Aiden that he would so willingly crawl between her legs when in a week he’d be walking down the aisle and marrying someone else?

Just the thought of it made her heart cramp and her stomach turn. What was she doing? She had no business wanting him like this, not when he was promised to someone else. Just because he didn’t seem to care, that didn’t make it right. No question, this was a mistake. There was no scenario in which this ended well for her. But dammit, it wasn’t fair . . .

Never in her life had she wanted a man more than this one. Why couldn’t things have been different? As if the universe were testing the limits to her control, Aiden rucked up her top and took her breast in his mouth. The hard steel ball of his tongue piercing teased her nipple, sending a direct current of energy right into her core. Oh, God, she had to stop this while she still had the sense to speak. But he felt so good . . .

A broken moan escaped her parted lips as he moved to her other breast, nipping and sucking the sensitive peak until it ached with both pain and pleasure. “Aiden . . .” she panted his name on a breathy plea. “We have to stop this.”