“Do I want to fuck you? Yeah. I do. At this moment, I want it more than my relationship with my best friend. What does that say about me, India? What kind of man does that make me? What kind of friend? So that guilt you mentioned? It’s there. But I don’t need any convincing to get my dick inside you. It’s where I want to be. Where I think I’ll go fucking insane if I don’t. Because you are right about one thing. You are my fix. Just a goddamn kiss and I’m addicted. I need more. That’s why I’m here, India. For more.”
The air stutters and stalls in my lungs somewhere around I don’t need any convincing to get my dick inside you. Liquid heat floods me, pouring through my veins, and transforming me into a living torch. I’m lit up, and that heat centers between my legs where my sex pulses, aches with a wonderfully terrible emptiness to be filled.
To be fucked.
“You want more?” I whisper.
“Yeah, baby girl. Fuck, yeah,” he says, his voice the consistency of churned up gravel. “You going to give me more?”
“Yes.” I am. It might damn us both to hell, but I am.
Tomorrow, I’ll regret this. It’s inevitable. Especially when the first time comes that he denies me in front of Jessie, or coldly relegates me to his friend’s ex again. But right now, I don’t care. I just want his hands on me.
“Then come give it to me.”
I know what he’s doing. What he needs from me.
To make the first move. To come take from him.
My feet move before my brain can send a cautionary message to stop, think, reconsider, but my body doesn’t heed it. And within seconds, I stand before him, tilting my head back to meet that piercing, unblinking gaze. Maybe he can read the hunger on my face, glimpse it in my eyes, because he moves that last inch separating us until his chest presses against mine. His powerful thighs bracket mine. His cock nudges my belly, a brand that sears my skin through his jeans and my shirt. Greed for him—for that hard, cruel, yet carnal mouth, those large hands, that seductive woodsy and earthen taste—ripples through and over me, and I shudder with it.
“Give me more,” he orders, and I barely understand him, his voice is so rough. “And don’t hold anything back.”
His words unlock something in me—something I wasn’t aware had been trapped, imprisoned. But he released it in that moment, and in the living room of my rental house, I feel freer than I ever have in my life. I can do what I want. Be whom I desire.
Well, I want to do Asa, and I desire to be the woman who isn’t afraid to claim what—or whom—she longs for.
Not breaking our visual connection, I sink to my knees.
The snag of his breath breaks on the air, and that’s his only movement as I tilt my head back and drink him in. The stark beauty, harshened even further by the lust stamped on his face. The blazing desire brightening his eyes to liquid steel. That same desire drawing his full mouth tight.
I lift my trembling hands to the leather belt at his waist, and with suddenly clumsy hands, loosen it. The task takes me twice as long as it should, but finally, I finish and reach for the button and zipper on his jeans.
“India.”
Another shiver trips down my spine at that voice… or it could be the press of his huge, scarred hand over both of mine.
“India, you don’t have to do this,” he says in a low voice.
Surprise and, yes, a little bit of hurt, jolts through me. “I know that. I want to.” My fingers involuntarily flex under his.
“Do you?”
His gaze narrows on me, and that look, this questioning, should douse the hunger clawing at me. But just the opposite. On my knees in front of him, that dominance pouring off of him demanding the truth even though he hasn’t touched me yet… My pussy spasms, reminding me of how empty it is, just in case I’d forgotten. Which I haven’t.
“Yes.” I curl my fingers around his waistband and trap a whimper when my skin strokes over the unyielding skin of his lower abdomen. “Yes, I do.”
“Then why are you shaking so hard you can barely undo a simple belt?” he demanded.
“Because I want it too much,” I confess with complete honesty, refusing to hold anything back here. “You make me clumsy.”
I didn’t think it possible, but his face hardens even further, those eyes… Good God, those eyes.
He drops to his knees in front of me so swiftly, I reach for him, unable to contain my small, startled cry, as concern for his old football injury rushes through me. But Asa doesn’t seem to care as he cups the back of my neck, dragging me forward the few inches separating us. Tunnelling the other hand in my hair, he jerks my head back and crushes his mouth to mine.
This.
I’ve been telling myself since I decided to take the job at the school that this isn’t why I returned to Pike’s End. That I didn’t come back to feel Asa’s mouth on mine again. To have him fuck it, conquer it, own it. To overwhelm me with his taste, his hunger… him.