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Tiny darts of hatred fired from her flesh, every step that thundered below her accentuating just what she thought of me.
My brow quirked in disbelief. “Ruin your life? Are you sure you’re not being a tad dramatic?”
Even in the dusty, pale light that filtered from the streetlamps in the parking lot, those eyes sparked. Emeralds that popped in a field of green. Her mouth dropped open, her heart-shaped face slack with the astonishment at the offenses I couldn’t help but keep throwing.
“Oh, don’t underestimate yourself, Caleb Greyson. You are the ruiner of lives. Congratulations.”
There was something about the way she said it that pierced me to the core. Guilt striking way down deep in that place that promised every word she said was true, reminding me of what my actions had cost.
In it, I was barely able to swallow around the knot of regret that thickened to stone in my throat.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your night or your life, Paisley.” I kept my voice as even as I could.
She scoffed. “Oh sure, you say that now when you want to touch my boobs.”
My attention whipped her way, stunned she’d allowed that to tumble out of her mouth, her inhibitions steamrolled by the amount of alcohol she had running through her bloodstream.
Not that the girl possessed many of those in the first place.
“Excuse me?”
Another sound of dubiety ripped from her pretty lips.
“Come on. Don’t act like you haven’t been ogling my girls all night. I know they’re great and all, I mean, not half as great as Dakota’s because hello hot mama, but I’m pretty happy with them and I think you are, too, Mr. Greyson.” The whole ramble fell from her in an accusation, her lips pursing to punctuate her point.
“I can assure you I do not want to touch your breasts.” Not going there, and certainly not when she was blundering drunk. And under the circumstances, fessing that I hadn’t even noticed Dakota’s since I had, in fact, been ogling hers all night seemed highly inappropriate.
A snort of laughter shot from her nose. “Oh, you’re even all stuffy and starchy with that stick up your ass when you’re talking about boobs. I wouldn’t dream of touching your very beneath me breasts,” she drawled.
She was adorable.
Naïve.
No idea what I would do to that tight body. How I’d fuck her every way. Ruin her for anyone else.
And I could feel every word out of her mouth eroding my control.
“I bet you’re a huge disappointment in the sack.” She’d shifted around so she could taunt me face-to-face, shaking her head in pity. It set her off-balance, and she tipped to the left. She attempted to right herself, but the sole of her boot slipped on a soft patch of dirt, and it sent her toppling backward, her arms flying as she tried to catch herself.
I didn’t think.
I reacted.
She was two inches from the ground when my arms snagged her around the waist. I jerked her upright. It left her pinned against me. We were bent over a fraction, me holding her up while she had no weight on her feet.
So fucking close I could taste her breath. In an instant, I was consumed by her chaos.
Open fields and fucking cotton candy.
I wanted to press my nose to her neck and inhale.
So I did, the words rumbling like a threat at her pulse point. “Are you dying to find out? I would wreck you, Little Riot. You’d do well to watch yourself.”
Those eyes widened in shock, and her breaths shallowed out, heaving from her lungs in some disordered pant of desire.
I could scent it radiating from her, saw it streak through her like a flare.
Blood sloshed through my veins in a thunder of want.
How this woman had this effect on me, I didn’t know.
I only knew it clouded all reasonable thought in my mind.
I wanted to peel down her shirt to expose the rosy buds of her tits currently peaked like diamonds and rubbing against my chest.
Take each pebbled nipple between my teeth.
Nibble and lick.
Before she had a chance to respond, I righted her, holding her by the waist until I was sure she was steady on her feet.
“Let’s get you home.” I set my hand on the small of her back as I guided her the rest of the way to my SUV that was sitting at the far side of the lot. Heat blazed at the contact, the woman a shaking mess from the warning I’d whispered in her ear.
Though she’d rebounded by the time we rounded a giant pickup truck and the tail end of my Rover came into view, a snort flying from her nose. “To think a tiny scratch could cause so much hatred. So pretty and shiny and perfect, and little ol’ me had to go and ding it up. The shame.” She drew it out, derision dripping from her tongue.
