She wants this as much as I do. I watch as she ghosts her tongue along her bottom lip, and it’s like a red flag to a bull.
I push my body against hers, and her eyes flash when she feels how hard I am. “You shouldn’t run from me, V.”
That fire returns to her as she pushes on my chest, but she isn’t going to move me. Not when I’m finally where I’ve wanted to be since she came back. “Fuck you.”
My grin widens as she struggles in my grasp. Fuck, I love the fight in her. Stoking that fire in her is going to be so fucking sweet, I can almost taste it. Taste her.
I crush my lips against hers, stroking my tongue against her lip like I just watched her do, unable to resist any longer. I tighten my hold on her throat. She resists me a little more, pushing against me; and I almost stop, but I’ve waited long enough to claim her.
The second I feel her soft, plump lips part, I know what I’ve always known. She’s mine to claim.
Mine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Octavia
Maverick fucking Riley has me trapped against a wall, devouring me. As much as I hate it, I can’t help but love it too.
If I said I hadn’t thought about what being with him would be like, I’d be lying. Fighting against him is a token resistance. Fighting’s in my nature. If I wanted him off me, I wouldn't crave him as much as I do.
His lips are brutal, taking and claiming, and my mouth falls open slightly on its own accord. I’m almost putty in his hands.
Almost.
I slam my palms against his chest and push, breaking his kiss so I can breathe. I'm beyond dizzy right now. It doesn’t matter how much I might want him. I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to me. I can’t.
“Get off me, you fucking asshole!” I try to put as much fire and spit into my insult, but even I can't escape the breathy edge to my words. His sheer presence, boxing me in like this, makes me wet. His lips turn up into a devilish grin. I have zero doubts that he knows exactly how wet I am. He all but confirms it with the way he looks down at my half exposed tits in my low-cut tank. He licks his swollen lips.
That, however, is no reason to give in.
Never.
“The lady doth protest too much—” He tightens his hold on my throat, his fingers digging into the flesh to the point I’m afraid I might actually pass out. He trails his nose up my cheek, and my body betrays me as a shiver runs down my spine.
Fuck, the move turns me on, but I can’t let him know. His entire upper body bends just enough for his nose to blaze a trail of fire across the skin of my neck, inhaling like a fucking animal before its attack. “—her pussy doth beg to be fucked, way too fucking much.”
“Shakespeare was a poet, not a pig like you.” I can barely hear my words with his fingers locked so tightly around my neck. I clench my hands at my sides.
“What can I say, V, I like it dirty.”
Then his mouth crashes back on mine, his tongue breaching the space between my lips without waiting for any kind of verbal consent. My mind screams at me to run, but my body’s primed for the attack. Wanting this. Waiting for it, like I’ve waited for him my whole life.
For a second, I let the fantasy take over. I enjoy the reprieve of this intimate moment. For a brief second, I forget that this guy’s the reason for the literal hell I’ve lived through since coming home. I forget that he hates me, and that Iwantto hate him. Truce or not.
Our tongues battle for control, stroking against each other like silk, even though we both know he holds the control in the palm of his hand. A hand that’s hellishly close to choking the life out of me. I can’t explain it, but I fucking love it.
Rubbing my thighs together and trying like hell to ignore the fire between my legs, I wonder if something is seriously wrong with me. Why is this turning me on? Why the fuck do I love this so much?
Maverick groans into my mouth. His body is a punishing weight, caging me in so that no one can see us—see me—and that movement reminds me of where we are. That people can see us. And then like a film reel going backward in time, all the shit he’s put me through flashes through my mind. Reminding me of all the reasons this is an incredibly stupid and bad idea.
My hands that pushed him away earlier, press against his sweaty, deliciously inked skin now. My nails curl around his pecs, digging into his flesh and hopefully drawing blood. He deserves the kiss of pain, even if I’m almost sure he gets off on it.
Good sense slams into me, and I’m able to push him away enough to break the kiss once more.
“Get off me!”
“Oh, baby, I thought you’d never ask.”