“You don’t know everything there is about me, Skittles. You can’t say that.” His head leans in closer to me. Our lips are just a breath away from one another. I moisten mine, practically tasting his kiss.
“I know enough. Are you going to warn me away from you some more, or are you going to kiss me?”
“Kissing you would be dangerous. A man could become addicted to your lips, Daphne,” his graveled voice purrs, and I feel it vibrate through me. God, if he could get me this aroused just talking about a kiss, what could he do to me in bed? I have no idea the answer, but I know that I want it to happen.
“I really, truly, hope so,” I admit, as my hand wraps against the side of his neck and I go up on the tips of my toes so that I can kiss him. It’s still not enough and Eli pulls back just enough so that he can look into my eyes.
“Do you want me addicted to you, Skittles?” he asks, questions swirling in his eyes that I don’t know if I have the answers to, but I want to find out.
“More than you could possibly imagine, Eli,” I answer truthfully.
“Fuck,” he hoarsely whispers. Then, he answers a prayer I didn’t even know I was praying and his lips come down on mine.
Rough. Hungry.Claiming.
Chapter 17
Pez
God help me.I tried to resist. I truly did. I don’t know a man strong enough to resist the taste of Daphne’s lips though. She’s like everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more. She opens immediately, her tongue going to war with mine, as she presses her body against me. My hands go to her hips, my fingers playing across the cheeks of her ass, using her body to ground me, because fucking hell, she’s making me lose control. I drink from her mouth like a dying man. Our tongues dance, as her fingers pull my hair, like she’s trying to get me closer. I swallow down her moan and I swear the sound vibrates in my cock. It’s the best damn kiss of my life. I’m in heaven. As my hands move so my fingers begin pushing her shirt up, I’m crashed right back down to earth as I hear Sabre’s voice through the roar of the blood rushing in my ears.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been the voice of reason, but there’s a little girl over there engrossed in some freaking movie about a frog, that just has to turn her head to see her Mom getting mauled by a man that I’m pretty sure she thinks is a superhero after he gave her a swing for her room that lights up, a Barbie Townhome and a bunch of Barbies and clothes. Jesus man, did you buy so much pink that you’re running emptyon testosterone and trying to prove you still have a dick by attacking my daughter?”
Daphne’s fingers bite into my shirt as she buries her head in my chest. I’m getting ready to rip into Sabre when I feel her body shaking.Shit.Did he make her cry? I pull back slightly. “It’s okay, Skittles …” The words die on my lips when she looks up at me and it’s clear she’s not crying … She’slaughing. When she looks at me, it just gets harder and she starts laughing so hard she snorts.
“You really did …” Daphne stops to catch her breath, causing yetanothersnort, “go overboard.”
“You think?” Sabre joins in. “I swear Daph, I need a copy of that bastard walking in the living room with that pink Barbie house. I’m going to get it blown up and hang it on the wall where you first come into the clubhouse.”
“The hell you are!” I growl.
“Oh, I am. Daphne just has to get me a copy,” Sabre counters.
“Old man?—”
“Instead of fighting with my dad, you should try and sweet-talk me. After all, I’m the only one that has the proof,” Daphne singsongs.
“Are you blackmailing me, Skittles?”
“Maybe,” she murmurs.
“What are you asking in return for destroying the photo?” I ask, studying her face, and trying my best not to laugh.
“A promise,” she says, looking at me and her face becoming more serious. I can literally feel the mood change. I find myself getting nervous.
“What kind of promise?” I ask.
“I want you to promise not to ghost me anymore. I’ve missed you.”
Her words shock the hell out of me. She mentioned it before, but I guess I didn’t expect her to say it in front of her dad. I want to tell her that every second away from her hurt me too. I don’t. Instead, I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I promise.”
“Pez!” Cammie comes running up to where Sabre is standing. He leans down and picks her up. I reach over the counter, and she jumps into my arms, not scared a bit.
“Whatcha’ need, Pixie?”
“Will you stay the night and sweep-over with me?” she asks, looking up at me with her pleading face that is painful to deny—especially when I would love nothing more than having a sleepover with her mother. I figure answering that I’d give my left nut to just stay in the house with them forever is the wrong answer—no matter how truthful—when a five-year-old is involved. So, I kiss her forehead and try for the truth. “I can’t stay, Pixie.”
Instantly, her little lip puckers out and her face looks so pitiful that it seems she might burst out in tears at any moment. “But I don’t want you to leave. We could pway Barbies all night!”
