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I failed.
Rock music is playing from his room. He drags me through the door and the second we’re inside, presses me to the wall and kisses me. This boy and walls… it’s as if he likes having me between a rock and a hard place.
“I’m so fucking,” kiss, kiss, “glad you made it. I just can’t,” kiss with tongue, teeth scraping over my lips, “get enough of you.”
God, me neither, but instead of speaking the words, I kiss him back and wrap myself around him like a starfish. He tastes delicious, smells even better, and feels ridiculously good under my hands, between my legs, all satin-smooth skin wrapped over steely muscles. I love the width of his shoulders, the expansion of his ribcage, the tight buns of his ass, the light scrape of scruff, the softness of his lips…
He’s like chocolate liqueur, only better, like coffee cake only spicy and rough, the way he presses me into the wall driving me crazy.
His hard-on is insistent, digging into my stomach. His towel is slipping, hanging on his jutting cock, trapped by my legs that are wrapped around his.
Panting, he breaks the kiss only to catch my face in his big hands and press our foreheads together. “Damn, girl. You’re like a drug. I was going to get dressed, fix us some dinner. Talk. But here we are again.”
I laugh, feeling strangely light and giddy. Is it because he just put into words what it’s like to be around him for me, too?
Pale lashes lift, and he grins. “You think it’s funny?”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. Bite my lip.
From so close, that smattering of golden freckles over his nose is so cute it hurts—though I’m not sure ‘cute’ really applies to a guy like Merc, with that square jaw, so sharp it can cut glass, and those big, broad, linebacker shoulders.
“You obviously don’t take this seriously, woman,” he drawls, pushing that hard cock into my belly, making me yelp. “Think you can handle this?”
Hard to tell—pun not intended.
And the urge to laugh returns. “Merc…”
“Naughty girls get spanked,” he growls, and that makes me laugh harder. “Punishment awaits you.”
And before I realize what’s happening, he grabs me and swings me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I yelp and flop like a stranded fish, then yelp again when he smacks his palm over my ass.
“Me Mercury, you Cosima,” he informs me, takes three steps and dumps me on his bed. “You and me, we hump.”
“We hump?” I’m on my back, a bit dizzy and laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes. “You and me we—”
“—hump,” he repeats solemnly, then thumps his chest and launches himself on me.
I shriek and scramble backward—but he manages to land on his knees and hands, his limbs trapping me.
He chuckles, a deep, delicious rumble—and I stop struggling. He’s bent over me like an angel—a sexy as hell angel with a wicked glint in his blue eyes. Somewhere along the way, the towel has disappeared completely, and faced with the naked reality of his arousal, I’m kind of paralyzed with need. Struck by desire.
That level of hotness could be lethal.
Woman down.
“These clothes got to go,” he breathes, lowering himself over me, just enough so I can feel every hard inch of him, feel his muscular thighs on top of my legs, the taut planes of his chest against my breasts. His biceps bunch and bulge as he holds himself up, keeps from crushing me into the bed. “Just you and me, pretty girl.”
I want him to crush me into the mattress. “You and me in the jungle,” I whisper, smiling.
“Anywhere.” He brushes his mouth over mine, “Everywhere.”
“Including women’s restrooms.”
His mouth twitches into a smile. “That’s right.”
I lift a hand to his face, swiping a fingertip under his eyes. He has dark circles I didn’t notice earlier, evidence of restless nights. “Mercury Watson.”
“That’s me.”
