Just before I swipe up my things, his hand lays on my arm. I just stare at it wrapped around my forearm, his hand almost twice the size of one of mine. It’s cut and bruised and in desperate need of a little tender loving care, but I ignore all that and pull my eyes to his.
Big. Mistake.
I can almost see the guard being pulled down, the shield he erects being cranked back. All the confusing emotions that are usually present are still there, only en masse.
I can’t think. Can’t respond. Just remind myself not to reach out and pull him into me and give him the hug I think he needs, maybe even wants on some level.
“You think I’m fucking with you?” he whispers.
“Aren’t you?”
“Not a chance, Slugger. As a matter of fact, I’m trying my damnedest to not fuck with you at all.”
“Noted,” I say, a little snottier than I intend.
Sucking up my pride, I try to shake him off. He just squeezes my forearm firmly until its clear I’m not going to move. Then he eases up.
“I don’t mean it like that.” He moves himself so we’re face-to-face.
“I think you do. I’m beginning to think a whole lot of what I see sometimes is more hope than reality.”
“What do you think you see?” he asks, taking another step so I’m almost standing between his legs.
“Stop this,” I whisper, my voice as shaky as I feel.
“Why?”
“It’s confusing. I can’t read you.”
He catches my chin with his hand, lifting it so I’m looking at him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he forces a swallow, his delicious lips parting with a small sigh. “Can you read this?”
“Wha—”
His lips capture the rest of the words from mine as his mouth covers my own.
THE KISS ISN’T KIND. It isn’t sweet. There’s no consideration given to anything besides the fervor between us.
He moves forward until my back is pressed against the edge of the table, my face cupped firmly in his hands. His lips part mine, urging them open, until I give in.
My head is spinning, my personal space completely obliterated by Walker Gibson. His solid body is against mine, his scent flooding my airways, the taste of his mouth rocking through my veins and wanting, needing, craving more.
He wastes no time, dipping his tongue past my lips with such a strong, purposeful motion it verges on ownership. I taste his desire, feel the heat radiating off his body, experience the raw, unhinged lust he’s explaining without ever saying a word.
Moaning softly, my hands working their way into his thick strands, he holds me in place with the pads of his thumbs resting on my cheekbones. Each lick, each delve into my mouth, becomes more frantic. More heated. More on the cusp of spiraling out of control.
Moving so he’s straddling me, one foot on the outside of each of mine, I can feel his cock rest against my belly. The length presses against me like a steel rod ready to burst the denim covering it.
Releasing the tufts of hair laced through my fingers, I wrap a hand around the back of his neck. My palm lying against his uncovered skin, feeling the sweat beaded there, sends a full-body shiver racing down my spine. Working my hands down his back, each movement causing the thick muscles to flex and bend under my touch, I make it to the hem of his shirt and then down the backside of his jeans until they’re resting on his ass.
Taking my bottom lip in between his teeth, I moan into his mouth and jerk his body towards mine. My head is buzzing, my blood screaming, my pussy begging for relief.
Opening my eyes, I see his settled on me. He lets go of my lip and takes a step back, his breath as frenzied as mine.
His pupils dilated, his hair a wild, sexy mess, he sucks in a haggard scoop of air. “Does that feel like I’m just fucking with you?”
“You stopped, didn’t you?”
He starts to smile but stops himself. “I stopped for your own good.”
“I’ll put it to you like this,” I say, letting my libido do the talking. If he shuts me down, I’ll leave and never look back. “I need fucked. I’ll let you decide by whom.”
That’s all it takes. With a growl coming from deep within his throat, he stalks the short distance between us.
“I can always find someone else,” I say, my voice betraying me. “If you don’t wanna—”
“Stop talking.”
My mouth clamps shut, like it’s controlled by the man peering down at me. The heat of his focus warms my skin and my mouth opens again to drag a cool breath of air into my lungs. Only it’s not cool. It’s as heated as the stare firing down from Walker.
He grabs the edge of my shirt and yanks it over my head in one quick, unceremonious move. I have no idea what he does with it; I’m too busy watching him watch me.