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“I thought you liked me dark and twisty.”
“Mm, I do. Just maybe not right this second.”
He presses against my back, hands drifting down the length of my arms. I swallow the swell of emotion that builds in my throat at the gentleness of his touch. It’s ridiculous to get emotional over a brush of fingers over my arms, but this is Noah. We haven’t said in words what tonight is going to bring, but we both know. This soft side of him won’t last, and while I want nothing more than to coax that beast out from inside of him, I love these moments. They’re rare, and that’s what makes them so special to me. It’s why I’ve begun to fall in love with him despite everything I thought I wanted from a relationship. These little moments are worth more than three words. They’re better.
“Are you going to tell me why you really ran after that guy today?” I whisper.
“No.” He drags his knuckles back up my arms, raising goosebumps along the way. “Not tonight.”
I hear what he chooses not to say.Not until I have to.
“Do I need to be worrying?”
The pressure of his touch grows for the briefest second before evening out. “No.”
I don’t have to look at him to know it’s a lie.
“Okay,” I breathe. The backs of my eyes sting before I grab hold of myself and blink it away. I had a feeling deep in my gut that he ran after that man for a reason. A reason that I wished I was wrong about but now know that I was right.
There’s a face to my stalker now. A confirmation that he’s still following us. Following me. He’s not going to let it go. Noah probably only angered him more by chasing him through the street. It’s going to get worse, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Still, I won’t let him take tonight from me. Everything is changing around us, but Noah and me . . . that’s permanent. Forever. Tonight is ours.
Noah chokes on a groan when I push my hips back against his groin, making contact with the length of him, already hard for me. The hands on my arms still before I grab them and drag them over my front. His fingers spread around my breasts, cupping them with a firm grip. My nipples are tight, scraping the material of my shirt. I want the boundary to disappear. Want him to pull and pinch and bite them until my legs turn to jelly.
“If there was any chance you could escape me, Tinsley, it will cease to exist the moment I feel you gripping my cock.”
The warning falls on deaf ears. I’m already too sure of this decision to be swayed.
“It’s brave of you to assume it wouldn’t be the other way around. That I’d ever letyouescapemeafter this,” I murmur.
Abandoning my left breast, he threads his fingers in the hair at the base of my head and tugs at the roots, exposing my throat. He drops his face to my neck and breathes deeply before parting his lips on my hot skin. He tastes me and groans, digging his dick into my back.
My eyes shut as I drop my head against his chest and reach behind me to grip his thighs, desperate to touch him. When he sucks at my throat, the hand on my breast drifts. Suddenly, my nipple is pinched between two of his fingers, forcing me to cry out. I jerk against him and arch my back at the spark of pleasure between my legs. It’s only a tease of what I know I’m in for tonight, and I’m desperate for more.
Sensing that growing need inside of me, he twists my nipple and orders, “Take your clothes off, Tinsley.”
I don’t have to be told twice. Forcing myself out of his grasp, I take a step forward and face him. He looks pissed off. But I know he’s not. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to devour me before we get started. Seeing him like this does something to me that nothing else has ever been able to come close to. It makes me feel sexy and powerful and in control despite the promise of danger that lurks in his eyes.
He’d crawl to me like a dog if I told him to. The image of that makes my stomach swoosh.
“All of them?” I ask coyly, fingering the hem of my shirt.
His eyes darken. “All of them.”
I tug my shirt over my head first, then work on my jeans. When I’m left in my bra and panties, I slowly reach behind my back and slip my fingers beneath the band, watching him. His nostrils flare as he stares at the red lace bra hiding my chest, poison filling those dark brown eyes.
“Finish,” he snips.
I wet my dry lips and unclasp the bra. It falls from my chest to the floor, and he clenches his fists as his eyes fix to my nipples. His uneven breaths fill the room, giving me the confidence to keep going.
Dropping my hands to my hips, I push the red thong down my legs and step my feet out of them before crouching to pick them up. They dangle from my pointer finger, the soiled patch in the middle of them facing him. Mischief has the corner of my lips tugging up as I throw them to him.
He swipes a hand through the air and catches them. My heartbeat stutters when he clenches the lace between his fingers and brings the wet material to his nose. The following moan that drifts through the room has more of an effect on me than him tugging on my nipples did. And when he lowers his hand and shoves the thong into the pocket of his jeans, I nearly collapse.
He smirks, as if reading my mind. “Get on the bed.”
I’m crawling onto the bed in an instant. The thick mattress sinks beneath my knees as I move toward the headboard. I can feel the heat of his stare between my legs as I crawl, and it only makes me hotter, so goddamn wet I’m sure I’m dripping.
