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“Seems like you need help.” His hands come up to my face to cup it with a gentle touch.
“I don’t need help.”
And I don’t need that gentle touch. It threatens to undo so much. I try to pull free but his fingers tighten a little. “Yeah, sweetness, you fucking do.”
Christian is fire and danger and sex. All the things I don’t want.
Not . . . not from him.
“If you have a mission, go do it, but don’t involve me.”
Then he comes in close again, and before I know what he’s doing, his mouth is on mine, soft and sweet and the kind of seduction that undoes something inside me.
A wave of need comes up and threatens to drown me in his center as his tongue slides against the seam of my lips, and I can’t stop myself, I open for him.
The kiss changes when his tongue touches mine.
It sparks and flares, and deep down in my belly is a tingling, hot need for more. He shifts, his erection hard, big, and blatant as he slides his hands around to the back of my head, angling my face to plunder my mouth in a deeper, carnal way.
And I react. Kissing him back, pushing up into that erection, into that hard, hot body, my hands on his lean waist, and I delve into him too.
It’s a ferocious kiss, one full of flame, need, and naked desire that makes me want to seek the hardest, sharpest edge of it. To tease those edges, to push to see how far I can make him go. How far I can go before I disintegrate and lose myself?
His mouth is hard, tongue demanding, and he tastes like the darkest sin. Like delicious secrets whispered in the night. He kisses like he knows my truth and can find the naked center of me I keep down so deep I’m not sure I can even find it.
He kisses like he’s the key to my lock, like he can drown me in pleasure so exquisite I’ll never come out again.
And—
I rip my mouth from his. Breathing hard. “No.”
I expect him to say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, hands still on me, still pressed into me. If he does something sweet, I’m going to shatter, and I’m never, ever going to forgive him.
But he doesn’t do a thing, just keeps his hands on me, his gaze too. “No isn’t going to cut it, Mia,” he says, voice rough. “Not now.”
My head starts a slow spin. “I can’t—”
“We’re going to do this. My way.”
I blink. “Do what?” It’s like I’m not sure what we’re talking about.
“This. I’m here for a reason, and you’re going to help me.”
“You do you, I told you that.”
He smiles, his teeth glinting in the darkness of the hall as the music and noise vibrate through me. “I’m going to. There’s something going on, and I’m going to find out what.”
“As I said—”
“Not done, Mia. You’re going to help me by being my cover.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means you and me, we’re going to be a thing.”
ChapterFour
CHRISTIAN
