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She glanced down at her hand sandwiched between his and his chest. Her heart flip-flopped and her knees went weak. Damn her mutinous body.
“That’s not your choice to make,” she said, her voice wobbling.
It hurt like yanking off a bandage but she peeled his hand off hers anyway. She was strong, but wasn’t a match for the man who’d battled his way up to the light heavyweight boxing championship and had never lost his edge or an ounce of muscle. He let her go, which was exactly what she wanted. And if she told herself that enough, she’d start believing it.
Taz shoved a hand through his wavy, inky-black hair, closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were bright with emotion and determination. “She doesn’t have to come between us.”
She shook her head. “You think Tamara is the one who did this?”
“Who else?”
“You did. I did.” Her sigh reverberated down to her toes. “We weren’t a couple. We were fuck buddies who keep everything on the surface. You don’t know me any more than I know you.”
“Bullshit,” he snarled.
She looked up at him, craning her neck to look into his eyes, and reached out for his belt. “And if I dropped to my knees and took out your cock right now, you’d be happy to have everything go back to exactly what it had been like before?”
Slipping the leather through the metal buckle, she fought against the hot liquid desire sliding through her, making her nipples hard against the lace of her bra. This wasn’t for
fun. This was to make a point. She just had to remember or they’d end up naked and sweaty and sated without anything having changed. Old habits—especially the ones that felt so fucking good—were always the hardest the give up, even if, like now, she didn’t have a choice.
“Was what we had before so bad?” He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.
Her body screamed for her to give in, to melt into him and come around his hard cock buried to the hilt inside her. It would be so easy and feel so good to give in. But after she came down from that high, he’d still be married and she’d still be a woman who always ended up alone.
She toyed with his belt, the leather the only thing soft about him right now, and nipped at the pad of his thumb—the voice telling her this was to teach him a lesson becoming more shrill as her body responded to his nearness with an almost desperate wanting, just like it always did.
“No, it wasn’t bad. It was a fantasy. Everything was that first rush of hormones and newness. It wasn’t real. It would have fallen apart eventually.” She hardened her voice as she looked into his eyes, using her anger as a protective shield. “It always does.”
But this time, she wouldn’t be left shell-shocked and a little more broken like she’d been after her brother killed himself, after her parents sent her away to a boarding school for bad seeds, or after St. B’s had been raided and the girls she’d become sisters with in every way but name scattered across the country. That had knocked her sideways, but having Taz walk away would be like scavenger birds peeling the flesh from her exposed bones.
Slipping the button of his jeans free was torture, but she did it anyway, needing the pain to remember her new reality.
“There’s more to us than sex.” He shoved her hand away before she could get to his zipper. “You know it, but you’re too scared to admit it so you fell back into old habits and ran before assessing the situation.”
She snorted, doubling down on the fury still simmering under the surface of hurt and betrayal. “And what part of ‘my boyfriend has a wife’ did I miss?”
He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth as the vein in his temple throbbed.
Sighing, she gave in to the bittersweet, blissful agony of being so close to him one last time and brushed one of his ebony waves away from his forehead. “Taz—”
But before she could finish the thought, his hands cupped her face and his lips were on hers. Hard, intense and mind-melting, the kiss wasn’t fair. Then again, when had fair ever felt so fucking good?
This was where they clicked, where they’d always fit perfectly. She couldn’t fight against it because in her heart of hearts she knew she didn’t want to—and that’s what scared her most of all. So she gave in. Just one last moment of madness, what harm was there in a final kiss?
Taz’s growl of triumph reverberated against her overheated skin as he traced a line of fire across the curve of her jaw and down the column of her throat. The prickle of his short beard against the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck made her knees weak and she moaned his name.
“Do you really think this is all there is between us, Kitten?” he murmured as his talented fingers found their way to her pants, making fast work of the button and zipper before shoving them down a few inches. “Is that why you were tugging on my jeans, looking at me with those big brown eyes and making me think of how good my cock looks with your lips wrapped around it? Where you trying to school me?”
Any protest her still-angry side may have uttered was overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick, calloused fingers sliding underneath the elastic of her panties. With her jeans still on, he didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, but he made the most of it with a deft touch against her hard clit, a smooth stroke through her slick folds and a teasing dip inside her aching core.
“If it was just sex, would you be this slick already?” He curled his finger, circling her opening, sending ripples of pleasure through her body. “No. Your lips are all plump and juicy because you trust me, because you know me.”
No. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.
Bianca fought to maintain her emotional distance. This had been her lesson to teach him, but he’d flipped the script. “You get me wet,” she managed to pant out. “Do you want a prize?”
“That depends.” He slid a second finger inside her, drawing them up on either side of her inner lips until the tips barely touched her clit and delving back down until they were buried inside her, filling her up. “Are you the prize?”
