“I should be going. Work in the morning,” she says from behind me.
I close my eyes, grateful for the reprieve and the excuse to get her out of my house. Having her here… I don’t trust myself. Guilt and loyalty aren’t enough to keep my thoughts to myself. It won’t take much for my hands to cross that line, too.
“Yeah, let me walk you to the door.” I pick up the box of pizza, and after a quick detour to the kitchen to dump it, I wait in the living room entryway while she gathers her jacket and purse. “Thanks for hanging tonight. Rose really enjoyed it.”
“I did, too.” She smiles and it’s small, rueful. “I have to confess, I wanted to turn her down. I thought this would be too… awkward. But it turned out okay.”
She shrugs into the hip-length leather jacket, and I tell myself that it doesn’t accentuate the sensual dip of her waist, the roundness of those perfect hips, or the lush perfection of her ass.
Goddamn, she really needs to go.
Pivoting, I head toward the foyer and front door. The scene of our two-year-old crime.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I followed up on the other student who was teasing Rose.” I skid to a halt, whipping around at the same time. India collides with me, unprepared for my abrupt about-face. Her palms slap to my chest, and I lock down the tortured groan climbing my throat like a cat scaling a scratching post. “Oh damn. Sorry.” She drops her hands, rubbing her palms along her denim-covered thighs before she frowns and halts the gesture. “Anyway, I called her parents in and we had a long talk about bullying. I gave her detention for two days and she has to write Rose an apology letter.”
Warmth surges through me, gratitude lodging in my throat. “Thank you.” My lips twist into a deprecating, half-smile. “It seems like I’m saying that to you often lately.”
She tilts her head to the side, her penny-colored eyes thoughtful as she studies me. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve fantasized about her staring at my cock exactly like this as she tries to decide how she’s going to swallow me down. Dream Me and Real Me don’t give a fuck. Just as long as she lets me inside that mind-fuck of a mouth.
“Did you think I forgot?” she asks.
I hesitate. In each of our interactions, I’ve offended her. That’s not my intention tonight, especially after we managed to get along the last few hours. But I can’t lie to her either. “You have a lot of things on your plate,” I hedge instead. “You’re responsible for hundreds of kids, not just mine.”
“We make time for what’s important to us.”
I slowly nod. “That’s true. And I—” Breaking off, I drag a hand through my hair and expel a long, hard breath. “I know I apologized earlier, but I want to reiterate it. I’m sorry for being a dick. I don’t want you to only be Rose’s assistant principal; I want you to be her friend. She really likes you, and yeah, I lost my sister, but she lost her mother. And I can’t relate to that like you can. If I’m honest…” I shake my head, not proud of my feelings and knee-jerk reaction outside the school. Not proud of how I lashed out at India like a spoiled kid instead of a grown-ass man. “If I’m honest, I was a little jealous that she felt comfortable going to you, talking to you, when she couldn’t do that with me.”
“Like I told you, that’s only because she didn’t want to make you upset or sad,” she insists softly, fiercely. Lifting her arm, she settles her palm on my chest, and I stop myself from cuffing her wrist and removing her hand from me so she doesn’t feel the rapid thudding of my heart. So she doesn’t notice the effect her nearness has on my body. “She loves you, and in her own way was trying to protect you.”
“I get that. Now,” I add, and after another hesitation, I give in and cover her hand with mine.
Unbidden, I drop my gaze to my chest. Savor the sight of my fingers and palm fully enveloping hers. This is how we’d be in bed. I’d completely shelter her petite frame, leaving no part of her untouched, uncovered, unprotected. Scalding lust races through my veins, licking at that control I pride myself on. My gut clenches, and I fight the need simultaneously filling me and leaving me a throbbing, aching mess. Heat pounds in my cock, echoing my heartbeat—fast, hard, and unceasing.
Let her go. That’s what I should do. What I fucking need to do. But my fingers won’t cooperate, instead squeezing, imprisoning her palm against my chest.
Her eyes, so rich, so beautiful, darken. With surprise, yes, but also with the same emotion roaring through me like a wild, untamed beast. Lust. Hunger. Need.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I order, the command a step above guttural. “Close your eyes. Do it.”
After a long second, she obeys, and a shudder ripples through me as a serrated growl rumbles up my chest and throat, punctuating the air between us.
“Why?” she breathes, and while her obedience thrills me, her refusal to completely surrender excites me. “Why do I have to close my eyes?”
I lean forward so our hands are wedged between us and with my free one I brush her thick curls back and away from her ear with more gentleness than I should be capable of in this moment.
“Because,” I whisper, bringing our hips together so my erection is a hot, insistent presence against her belly and my thighs brace hers. Her gasp caresses my cheek, and a primal possessive urge spikes inside me. It’s my cock cradled against the soft give of her stomach. My cock branding her. “Because you’re looking at me like my dick is already filling up that undoubtedly tight-as-a-fucking-fist pussy,” I grind out the accusation in her ear, my lips grazing the rim, and even that small, almost inconsequential touch is enough to have pre-cum dotting the head of my cock. “Your eyes are begging me to push into you until you can’t take anymore. And then you go ahead and take more. They’re begging me to break you, mold you. And depraved fuck that I am, I want to give it to you.”
A sound that lies somewhere between a whine and a groan echoes in my ear. And I snap.
Two years of not seeing her should’ve cooled this clawing, raw, damn near savage need for her. With the exception of the dreams I had no influence over, I’d convinced myself it had eased. But it’d only lain dormant, waiting for her to return to wake it from its slumber, jack it back up to the howling, consuming lust that’s making a laughing mockery of my control.
I drag my mouth down to her jaw, tracing the delicate line like it’s a treasure map that will lead me to what I covet most—her mouth. With a hunger so strong it should terrify me, I take her lips. Cover them. Bruise them. Thrust my tongue between them.
A faint voice inside my head whispers to slow down, to gentle. But I can’t. The sweet taste of her is riding my tongue now and there’s no holding back. Because she’s tilting her head and opening wider so I can claim more of her. Because she’s sucking on me like I’m her favorite icy treat on a hot summer day. Because she’s digging her fingernails into my back through my thermal shirt. No. No way in hell can I hold back when she’s marking me as hard and thoroughly as I am her.
With one hand twisted in her hair, I release the other from in between our chests and drop it to the wide flare of her hip. God, her curves. They’re so lush, so beautiful, so flagrantly feminine. I can’t stop my fingers from travelling over the rounded flesh. From squeezing it, then following the sensual dip of her waist. From brushing over the gentle swell of her belly. From cupping the modest-but-perfect handful of her breast.
“Fuck,” I snarl against her lips, just as she whimpers my name.