My eyes widen. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m over Colton, that’s not the case. I hate the attraction that hums like a live wire between us. The callous manner in which he dumped my ass should have killed every fragile emotion inside me. It’s disconcerting to realize that it hasn’t. My feelings are as strong as ever. Even if they’re tinged at the edges with fury, somehow that only makes them more potent.
What’s worse is that every intention is clearly written across his face. And still, I’m powerless to stop it from coming to fruition.
My hands tighten. “Don’t,” I whisper, knowing that it won’t stop this from happening. The moment he grabbed my hand and towed me into this room, the battle was already lost. I just didn’t realize it until this very moment.
He gently cups my cheeks before tipping my head and searching my eyes. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
He’s right. I’m already berating myself for my stupidity, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. I walked right into the lion’s den, thinking I would come away unscathed.
I’ll be lucky to make it out alive.
Barely do I get a chance to suck in a breath before his mouth crashes onto mine. One sweep against my lips, and I’m opening until he can plunge inside. Our tongues tangle, and it’s enough to wipe away the knowledge that this is a disastrous idea. My palms go to his chest. Instead of shoving him away, my fingers curl into his shirt, attempting to drag him closer. A growl rumbles up from his chest.
Our lips fasten, and teeth scrape against one another. All of the protests inside my head go silent as a barrage of sensations flood through me. As much as I try to convince myself that Colton is no different from any of the other guys I’ve been with, I realize deep down inside this is a lie. Colton is unlike anyone else. There is something elemental between us. Electric. Cataclysmic. Every time we come together, this knowledge is slammed home almost painfully, making it impossible to ignore.
I’m not sure how to go about altering this truth. It might not even be possible. All I know is that when I’m locked in his arms and his mouth is claiming mine, I feel more alive than ever before.
And that, in a nutshell, is the problem.
How do you go about eradicating an emotion so powerful?
I don’t have an answer.
His hands fall from my face, gliding over my chest and belly before arriving at the button of my jeans where they hesitate. “I want you, Alyssa. Saturday night wasn’t nearly enough.”
A groan bubbles up in my throat because he’s right. Even as I lay stretched against his car, the warm night air hitting my damp flesh, I had already arrived at the same conclusion. If that encounter did anything, it was only to stoke all those dormant emotions to life.
Guess the joke is on me. They’re more alive than ever and clamoring to break free.
“Do you want this?” he asks when I remain silent.
Say no!
Push him away!
Do something!
“Yes.” As soon as the word escapes from my lips, the snap of my fly is released, and the zipper tugged down. My fingers skim across his flat abdominals, hovering for a moment before dipping inside his athletic shorts and wrapping around his hard length.
Oh, God.
Memories of what it felt like to have him surging inside me bursts into my consciousness as the scrap of material between my legs dampens. We always fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.
As soon as the zipper is lowered, his hand delves inside my panties and parts my lower lips before thrusting deep inside. A gasp escapes from me as a second finger joins the first. My muscles contract around him as pleasure floods through every cell of my body.
“You’re so fucking wet.” He pumps his fingers, picking up the pace. “I’ve missed this so much.”
Even as the words reverberate throughout my being, I refuse to parrot them back to him. Already I’ve given him so much more than I wanted.
My fingers tighten around his cock. Somehow, it becomes harder, feeling more like steel. Another punch of arousal hits me as I remember what it was like to take him in my mouth. To have his fingers tunnel through my hair and watch him spiral out of control.
“That feels so damn good,” he whispers hoarsely as I stroke his shaft. “I need to be inside you, baby.”
The endearment is like a fist tightening around my heart, squeezing until it becomes painful.
Don’t do it! Allowing him inside your body will only make matters worse. It’ll be like he’s branding you all over again.
“I want that, too.” I hear myself say the words as if from far away.