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“Are we going to get out of this country? Can you really do it?” I feel my chest tighten as the now-familiar panic begins to return.
I didn’t notice, but my ankle is now draped over his lower leg and his arm is stretched out over my head. His fingers thread through my hair, almost like he’s playing with it.
It feels nice. Too nice.
“I’ll die trying, darlin’. I can promise you that,” Decker says.
Holy fuck.
My lips part, and our bodies creep closer. I need him to kiss me. He can’t tell me he’d die for me and not goddamn kiss me.
His hand in my hair presses against the back of my head and he tugs me closer. Our mouths are almost touching and as I breathe him in and let my lids drift shut, waiting for the feel of his kiss, Decker says, “Go to sleep.”
My eyes fly open. I expect to see his cheeky smile, but instead, there’s an inferno of desire boiling within his silver globes.
“Deck—”
“No, Izzy. You’ve said no, so I’m going to respect it.” He rolls onto his back, pressing his shoulder up against me because there is no room for space between us in this small bed.
I sit up on my elbow. He can’t just do that.
“You can’t tell me you’ll die for me and not kiss me, Decker. Jesus. You can kiss me and stuff.”
Then he has me on my back in seconds, towering over me.
“Do you feel that, Izzy? My hard cock against your legs?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“If I kiss you, darlin', the next thing going in your mouth is my cock. Then it’s going in your pussy. And you’ve already told me no. So don’t play games you’re not willing to finish,” he rumbles. “So what is it? Do you want me to fuck you, or are you going to sleep?”
I wish the choice was mine.
16
DECKER
