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She melts. That’s the only word for it. She melts against me, her soft, curvy body relaxing against mine, so trusting, so full and beautiful. Her lips part, and I can’t stop myself—I slip my tongue between them to twine around hers, savoring the honey-sweet taste of her mouth. Her hips dig into mine, and there’s no way she can’t feel my cock, hard as a rock, pressing into her stomach.
Her arms wind around me in reply, and I let my hand at her waist dip to her ass, not giving a fuck that her co-workers’ gazes are on us as I grip her possessively, hoisting her against me. I want them to see it. Want them all to know she’s mine. Skye gasps into my mouth when my cock twitches against her, and I release a dark laugh. I love the way she squirms beneath me.
“Get a room!” one of the other waitresses finally shouts, and only then does Skye break away from me. Her blue eyes are huge and locked on mine as she stumbles back a few steps, the soles of her tennis shoes squeaking on the blacktop.
“Have a good night, Skye,” her manager speaks up loudly, his voice tight and irritated.
“She will,” I answer before she has a chance to, my gaze flashing his way. Any challenge in his eyes freezes when he sees the look in mine. All night I’ve had to watch the scummy way he looks at her without putting my fist in his throat. I can practically hear his tiny brain screaming at him, pointing out that he’s nearly a foot shorter than me, and about as thick as my left arm.
Right on cue, he breaks eye contact and scurries toward his car, the gaggle of waitresses fleeing in his wake. Soon enough, Skye and I are the only two people who remain bathed in the pool of streetlights out in the diner parking lot.
“I really can’t tonight,” she repeats, but this time there’s a definite note of regret in her tone. She rubs her fingers over her lips and zeroes in on the bulge in my jeans. “I mean, I shouldn’t.”
Oh, sweet, beautiful girl. I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know what the word shouldn’t means.
“No, you’re right,” I say without missing a beat. “I want you to rest. Tomorrow then—Chinese food?”
She’s going to say yes. I noticed the cartons in her trash, when I dug through it for clues like a fucking stalker before I came to the diner tonight. But I pretend to be surprised at the coincidence when her face splits into a huge grin.
“My favorite. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” For a second I feel like shit because her huge, trusting eyes are trained on mine and her lips curve into a smile that’s like breathing fresh fucking air. Pure. “What’s your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
She gives me directions to the apartment I spent half the day scoping out, and the empty feeling in my stomach worsens. She’s going to hate me. If she figures out who I am, what I’m doing to her, she’s going to despise me.
She won’t ever find out, the darker corner of my mind points out. I’ll have to find a way to keep her in the dark, to shield her from everything her jackass brother has gotten himself into.
“It’s a date, Stone,” she’s saying now, and I catch her wrist and bring it to my lips, turning her hand palm-up to kiss the center. She shivers and releases a moan—a sexy little mewl that goes straight to my cock and reminds me I’ll be going home alone tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Skye.”
But I already know it’ll be sooner.
This woman will play a starring role in every fantasy I have until I’m able to claim her pussy.
4
Skye
“What do you mean you’re canceling movie night?” my brother demands from the phone I’ve left on speaker on the bathroom counter while I bustle around the kitchen.
“Something came up!” I yell back, flinging open cabinets and bending to dig through the ones under the sink. Where did I put my eyeliner? It’s been way too long since I bothered to give a damn, as evidenced by the fact that everything except my everyday makeup—lip gloss and tinted moisturizer—has gone missing. “And besides, you cancelled the last two movie nights, remember?”
“Skye,” Ian groans.
“I’m not bitching, just reminding you,” I quickly say. “Maybe we can catch a movie another night this week instead? I just … I need to do this. For myself.”
There’s a long pause from the other end. “Oh god, you’ve got a date or some shit, don’t you?”
Dammit. Sometimes I hate how well Ian can figure me out. “Don’t sound too excited there, dear brother,” I mumble.
“Who is it? It’s not your creeper boss, right?”
“Greg?” I cringe at the thought of my boss. Not only are his constant reminders about my weight a total turn off but he usually follows them with an offer to take me out to dinner. Because apparently, he thinks the way to my heart is through my stomach … that he thinks could use some toning. “No, definitely not. I have some standards, you know.”
Ian snorts. “Not if you’re prioritizing some random dude over your own flesh and blood!” But he’s laughing when he says it, so I know he’s not upset.
“Whatever.” Aha! My fingers light on the missing makeup bag, which is lodged behind the toilet cleaning supplies. Luckily, the bag is made of thick, clear plastic. “You enjoy having ammo to tease me about and you know it,” I tell Ian, rinsing off the bag before unzipping it to inspect how much eyeshadow I have left.
“Yeah right. Like you’ll even tell me shit about him.”
