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Fuck.
He scrubbed his palm over his aching erection that was trying to split his zipper.
For the rest of the fucking day, he couldn’t concentrate on shit because the only thing he could see was Jet on her knees at his feet, his dick, rock hard and shiny from her spit, sliding in and out of her glossy pink lips.
He’d even tried to piss her off by using Lizzy. But Jet didn’t seem to give a fuck about the sweet butt.
Maybe she no longer wanted him and he was alone in still wanting her.
Obsessing about her.
It was a fucking sickness with only one cure.
His thirst for her made his skin itch. Made his fingers twitch. Made him want to bend her over the hood of a car, leave his handprint on her ass and fuck her so hard he left bruises. Made him not even care who the fuck watched.
That was how far he’d fallen into that sickness.
All the mistakes he’d made in life, he knew better than to make them, but did it anyway.
Just like now as he moved quietly through her dark apartment.
A goddamn sickness. That was all it was. One he couldn’t shake.
He paused in the tiny living space that included her couch, TV and galley-sized kitchen and shrugged off his heavy leather jacket. He tucked his socks into his boots once he’d removed them.
He began to remove his belt but thought better of it. It could come in handy. He tugged his long-sleeved tee over his head, pulling off the thermal shirt he wore underneath it at the same time, leaving him bare-chested and barefooted.
He stared down the short dark hallway to the partially closed door of her bedroom. Then his feet began to move in that direction on their own. The apartment was quiet except for the heat kicking on, so he needed to walk just as quietly.
He pushed the bedroom door open farther and he let his gaze slide through the room, relieved to find her alone. Because if she hadn’t been, that would’ve been awkward as fuck and he would’ve been backtracking out of her place as fast as he could.
But thank fuck no one else was in her bed. His jaw shifted even at the possibility.
Of seeing her in bed with another man.
Of another man coming inside her. A place where he’d been and already staked his claim. Of that man’s mouth touching her neck where he’d already left his mark.
Of some other man’s ears filling with her whimpers and the cries of a name other than Rook’s as her pussy pulsated around another man’s dick.
Yeah, it was a sickness all right. Because he knew they had no ties. Nothing prevented her from inviting another man into her bed.
And that was what she would do. Invite him into her apartment, into her bed, into her. Unlike Rook who just took what he wanted and didn’t ask first.
Her breathing was heavy, but steady, as she sprawled diagonally across the bed on her belly. All the bed coverings had been pushed down to the bottom of the mattress like she’d been restless and kicked them off.
She wore nothing but a pair of boy shorts—he couldn’t tell the color—that clung to her round, shapely ass and her thick hair spread across her pillow and along her bare back like a silky midnight waterfall.
Her right cheek was pressed into the pillow, so she faced away from where he stood, but he had no doubt she was knocked the fuck out. Sleeping like the dead.
He paused, took a breath and closed his eyes.
Why the fuck was he here?
Why was he driven to break into her apartment again?
Why couldn’t he resist whatever she had that pulled at him?
What was it about her?
It wasn’t only her looks or her body.
It wasn’t only her give-as-good-as-she-gets attitude.
It wasn’t only her damn stubborn confidence.
But it was the way she had looked at him long before they ever fucked for the first time. Like he was just as much a piece of that forbidden fruit to her as she was to him.
Knowing he shouldn’t eat that fruit made him want to do it even more.
Knowing that it was risky made him want to do nothing but take that chance.
Fuck the consequences.
Then he took her that first time and the sex with her was just like her attitude. Brazen and brave. Yeah, she could give as good as she got.
Rook could give as good as he got, too.
Seeing her sleeping and vulnerable on her large bed made the blood in his veins run scalding hot, made his dick flex in his briefs, made his mouth water with the memory of her tangy feminine taste on his tongue. Arousal he caused.
He caused it.
He made her wet with wanting.
He wished to fuck she didn’t want him. It would make it so much easier to walk away and not keep getting sucked back in.
