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“Is it important?” I breathe back, fighting to suppress a groan when his hand on my waist slips to rest on the curve of my ass.
He squeezes ever so gently before he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Yes because I need to know what to whisper against your skin when you’re moaning beneath me.”
His hot breath brushes along the sensitive skin of my neck, and this time, I don’t stop the groan from slipping free. His hand tightens in my hair, forcing my face up. He levels me with a heated look, and I meet the challenge with one of my own.
“That’s mighty presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
His sun-kissed orbs search my face before his smile turns predatory. “The blush on your cheeks, your dilated eyes, and your racing heart tell me you want it, sweetheart. I bet that if I stick my hand under your pretty little dress, I’ll find you soaking wet.”
He raises a brow in a silent dare, and I rub my thighs together because he’s right. If he makes good on his bet, he will find my panties soaked.
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and watch his eyes darken with desire and something like hunger. He lets go of my hair, bringing his hand to my face, and uses his thumb to free my bottom lip. I think he’s about to kiss me for a moment, but then he releases my lip and cups my face.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Challenge lines his voice, demanding an answer.
I meet his heated gaze. “You’re not wrong.”
“I didn’t think so.”
My admittance seems to be all the permission he needs. He pulls me into his arms and presses his mouth to my neck with a need I can’t deny. His lips are like steel velvet against my skin, unyielding and soft. His hot breath tickles my neck as he kisses his way up to my jawbone, lingering just centimeters away from my lips.
The air between us feels charged, like we’re sharing something sacred. I catch his eyes, and there’s a question there, unspoken but clear. Despite his dominating nature, he waits patiently for me to make the choice that will change everything. Like a true gentleman, even though I can tell he is anything but.
My mom once told me that life is made of choices, and the consequences of those choices shape the path our lives will take. Good or bad, each decision is as important as the one before because a single one has the power to change your life forever.
If life is the sum of our choices, then my past has only consisted of ones my father has made for me. And if he thinks he can control my future—he’s wrong. Because right here, right now, I’m choosing myself.
Consequences be damned.
“Kiss me.”
4
Michael
I didn't intend to kiss her. Given how against it I am, but her sassy mouth practically dared me to do it. If only to give her something to do with her mouth until she's down on her knees in front of me.
My lips crash down, claiming hers with a ferocity that makes her moan into my mouth, and I swallow the sound. I need more, and so does she. She buries her hand in my hair as she meets every swipe of my tongue, exploring my mouth in tandem with hers.
Each brush is like an electrical shock straight to my cock, and I growl, pressing forward into her soft body. And when the little vixen lifts her leg to encircle my hip, brushing her core against me, I just about die.
Playfully nipping at her bottom lip, I warn her, “You’re playing with fire.”
She meets my eyes, and the dark, sensual desire swirling in those green depths of her eyes calls to me. I haven’t felt this kind of heat, this uncontrollable need, this intense desire in months. The only thing I can compare to it is the rush I get when I put a bullet between the eyes of an enemy. Her touch makes me feel alive again after being numb for so long.
“Last warning.”
If she sees the fire dancing in my eyes, she’s not afraid of it. She should be, though. She should run as fast and as far as she can from me because if she lets me, I will consume her until only ashes remain.
The red-haired angel wears a Cheshire cat smile as if hearing the dare in my tone excites her into dancing with the devil. “Then let me burn.”
Her words make me spring into action, and I snatch her hand, escorting her off the dance floor. I lead her through the club and down a dimly lit hallway. No one stops us. They know better than to approach me. I’d like to take her upstairs to my office, but I don’t have the time or patience right now. Instead, I push open the door to the employee bathroom and pull her inside.
She steps forward, and her eyes travel over the space, taking in the brown tones, gold accents, and frosted scone lighting. The music from the club is muffled, but the air inside is thick and so charged, it’s as if a single spark will set off an explosion.
Meeting her eyes in the mirror hanging above the large marble slab counter, I flip the lock on the door and watch her visibly shiver with a thrill. I push off the door and cross the room in two large strides. OnceI’m standing directly behind her, I brush my hands down the soft skin of her exposed arms.
I bury my face in her neck and inhale deep. The sweet smell of lavender and vanilla overwhelms my senses, and like the feral animal she makes me feel, I nip to see if she tastes as good as she smells. She gasps and jerks in my hold until she melts back against me as if begging for another nibble.
