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“So you don’t have to live in a shitty addition on the back of the club? To keep you busy?”
He made a dismissive sound. “It doesn’t matter where I sleep. As long as I have a roof over my head, and no one forcing me to service them, I won’t complain.”
Inwardly, Dex flinched. A few times now Grant had alluded to having been assaulted when he and Will were staying at the shelter back when he was seventeen. She’d thought it was typical inappropriate guy humor, but this time it sounded like a fact.
Her heart broke.
He’d still been a kid back then, and there’d been no one to look out for him than Will, who was only two years older. If she ever met their father and stepmother, she was going to give them a piece of her mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing that no matter what she said it wouldn’t be enough to express how she was feeling. Angry. Violent. Sad.
“It’s ancient history.” He pierced her with those feral green eyes of his. “Will doesn’t know, though, so please don’t bring it up.”
She dropped her feet back on the floor and went around the desk to him. He turned his chair to follow her movement toward him.
“What?” he grumbled, leaning back, away from her. With him sitting and her standing, they were the same height.
“I’m going to hug you now.”
“I don’t need a hug.”
“I need a hug.” She waited, not wanting to push him, but also knowing that he didn’t get a lot of affection.
He opened his arms without enthusiasm, but it was good enough for her. She hugged him, even though his position sitting made it awkward. She melted against him, having missed his arms. His chest being bare just made it all better—hard, sliding muscles sheathed in tattooed skin. He grunted in irritation and dragged her into his lap, then caught her wrist and twisted up behind her back so suddenly it made her gasp in pain.
Faster than she could react to, his mouth lowered to hers, his kiss hot and insistent, as though touching her had snapped the fragile thread holding back the beast. He devoured her mouth, and she felt his cock harden against her ass cheek. His free hand slid up inside her borrowed t-shirt and he cupped the weight of her tit in his palm, his fingers plucking roughly at the barbell that pierced her nipple.
She moaned into his mouth, ready for anything he had in mind.
So fucking ready.
Only his jeans and her panties were keeping their bare flesh from each other, her skirt rucked up around her hips. She squirmed, trying to find some relief against the rough fabric of his jeans.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he snarled before taking her mouth again.
Damn it. He could feel her soaking his jeans?
Like the man needed an ego boost?
He broke the kiss and gasped, like a diver breaking the surface of the water. He stood then, dumping her off his lap, but then caught her arm before she could hit the floor.
“Fuck, Arabella,” he groaned, getting to his feet.
“Anytime.”
He didn’t loosen his grip on her arm, and they stared at each other for a long, long moment before he let go and they stepped apart. Damn, the man was huge. She forgot sometimes how tall and broad he was up close. The nipple he’d been teasing ached for him almost as much as her heart.
“Not going to happen—not unless you’re willing to give me what I want.”
“Well then, I guess we’re at an impasse.”
“Still.”
“Still.” She w
as going to make a joke about having blueballs, but she was too flustered and hot to make light of things. Too vulnerable and too frustrated with him.
“I just needed to talk,” he said defensively.
