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“The nearness of your body.”
She chuckles, then rubs at her temple. “Jesus, can’t believe I actually allowed myself to laugh at that. Hunter, you have to stop this. You can’t keep—” She waves her hand in the air.
“Can’t what?”
“You know—” She gestures between us.
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re going to make me spell it out, aren't you? Fine, here it is. You can’t go around making these sweeping statements like you mean it.”
“I do mean it.”
“No, no. Stop right there.” She shuffles her feet. “Enough already with the cheesy platitudes.”
“Nothing cheesy about the truth, Fire.”
“Oh, my god.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Are you seriously hearing yourself? You sound delusional, obsessed—”
“I am, about you.” I lean in closer until my chest brushes hers, until my breath raises the hair on her forehead, until her scent intensifies, and I draw it in and hold her essence deep in my lungs.
A trembling grips her. “Hunter, this is all wrong. I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you jeopardize your career…and mine."
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Or maybe, this is how we take the leap to finding a path that’s different, but much more satisfying for the both of us."
One side of her lips twists. She opens her eyes, and in the depths of her gaze, I see pain and regret…and something else. Something that gives me hope and squeezes my heart at the same time. It’s a kind of wistfulness, a forlorn yearning, a longing for something that is so within our grasp. Something that she is going to turn her back on. Again.
"Don’t do it," I snap.
"It’s already done." She lowers her gaze and, this time, when she raises her eyelids, there’s only calm acceptance, and a steely resolve. One that makes the band around my chest tighten further. I tighten my hold on her, and she stiffens. "Let me go, Hunter."
"I can’t."
"Oh?" Her lips thin.
"If I did, you’d hate me for not pushing my advantage when I had the chance."
"If you don’t release me, I’ll hate you more."
"I’ll take my chances." I lean into her, and she begins to struggle. Every brush of the sweet cradle of her hips sends a thrill of piercing lust radiating out from the point of contact. I pin her with my hips, and she gasps. A flicker of heat bursts to life in the depths of her gaze. Finally, fuck.
What I wanted to do earlier? I only temporarily managed to control my impulses. But being with her alone in the enclosed space of the elevator car, combined with her stubbornness in not wanting to give us a chance, has pushed me over the edge. I have no regrets that I manipulated the situation to essentially trap her here with me. I have no compunction that I’m holding her against her will right now. I’ll take every opportunity I can get to convince her to give us a chance.
I lower my head until our breaths mingle. I draw in her scent, pulling it deeply into my lungs, letting it sink into my cells, and allowing it to slide down to my cock, along with most of the blood in my middle section. My head spins. My muscles harden. I am so engrossed in her that it isn’t until my head snaps back and pain slices across my cheek that I realize she slapped me.
Anger pulses through my veins. Lust streaks under my skin. I glare at her, and the pulse at the base of her neck skitters. Her breath comes in pants, her pupils dilate, and something seems to snap inside of her. Thank fuck. It’s the same animal instinct I’ve tried to hold in check since I met her. We move at the same time.
15
Zara
He moves at the same time as me. Our mouths fuse. Our teeth clash. A growl rips up his chest. The next second, he grips me under my butt and lifts me up. I wrap my legs about his hips. There’s a ripping sound, and I stiffen for a second. Then he pushes his pelvis forward, and the long, thick column in the crotch of his pants stabs into my core. My pussy clenches, my clit throbs, and my nipples are so hard, I’m sure they’ll tear through my blouse and jacket.
I have too many clothes on. I throw my arms around his neck, plaster myself to him. Mold myself to his hard planes and angles and gradients, and that very manly chest of his, which is so wide, it never fails to make me feel dainty and utterly feminine. Which is a first. It’s not that I haven’t been attracted to other men. No one has been macho enough, strong enough, secure enough, dominant enough to not feel intimated by my personality. With Hunter, that has never been a problem. He’s so masculine, so virile, so completely male. And I don’t mean just the fact that he is six-foot-three with shoulders so broad, they never fail to make my breath flutter and my ovaries clench. It’s his mindset, his gaze, the way he surveys the space around him with a confident manner that is downright sexy and potent and so…so… Hot. It makes me want to climb him…and lick him…and punch him…and slap him…and then kiss him… The way I am right now.
As if he senses the roiling emotions running through me, as if he feels the surrender from deep inside of me, as if he’s aware of the slippery slope of my thoughts, he tilts his head, opens his mouth over mine and devours me. He nips on my lower lip, and when I moan, he thrusts his tongue over mine, draws on my breath, sucks from me, and it feels like he’s consuming me completely. A whine slips from my lips, the sound so needy, so wanting that it turns me on even more. My panties are soaked, and I can smell the sweetness of my arousal in the air.
As I cling to him—with my ankles locked about his waist, and my arms locked around his neck, with his cock jabbing into my pussy in a gesture so demanding, I’m tempted to rip off my panties and take him inside—I know, for sure, I’ve met my match.
