She stops in her tracks but won't turn around. "Don't, Marcus." Even quieter, she adds, "Please."
Her plea hits me straight in the junk. Denielle Keller has also never pleaded with me. She has either taken my hate or, as of recently, pushed back.
"Why did you let the douche manhandle you?"
She doesn't turn. Her head dips forward, and I take a step closer. Her response is barely audible. "I can't do this with you."
With me?
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" My fingers tighten around the grip of my gun while my other hand curls into a fist. A muscle in the side of my neck begins to twitch.
Suddenly, a door on the first floor opens and closes, and Lilly's voice echoes through the foyer up to us. "Have you heard from D? I thought she would be home by now."
Silence.
"The guy cheated on her. She would never take him back!" Conviction rings in her statement. "She is not moving back." She's on the phone.
Denielle's back goes rigid.
Footsteps come closer, and before I can think about my actions, I shove the gun in its holster and lunge for the woman in front of me. My sudden attack startles a screech out of her, and I wrap one arm around her waist while I clamp my palm over her mouth.
At that moment, Audrey begins to fuss, and it clicks. It's bath time. Lilly is heading upstairs.
I adjust my hold and lift Denielle as if she weighs nothing. With the hand that had just prevented her from exposing us, I open the nearest door and maneuver us inside the…the fucking laundry room. Of course I end up with her in the most cliché small space. I want to slap my forehead. Why did I care if Lilly saw her? Or us. For some unknown reason, I knew that Denielle would not want her friends to witness her current state.
The only illumination in the room is the LED night-lights built into the outlets. Still in my embrace, she shifts and reaches for the light switch.
"No." I wrap my other arm around her as well, restricting her movement. My lips graze her ear when I speak, and Denielle sucks in a breath.
Neurons in my brain fire one contradicting thought after another at me. Why did I intervene in her lovers' spat?
It's not a lovers' spat if she is not with the guy.
Is she still with him? Again? She was scared of him. I shouldn't be in here with her. I don't like the woman. She's hot as sin, but that's where it ends.
Does it?
Denielle's chest rises and falls rapidly against my arm. My other hand is splayed across her lower abdomen. With the tips of my fingers, I apply the slightest pressure, wanting to guide her closer. She complies without hesitation and melts against me. Her back molds to my front, and only one thought forms in my mind: her body was made for me. She leans her head back into the crook of my neck. Another perfect fit. Why is that? She is not meant to be mine.
She is not mine. She is the reason—
I refuse to finish the thought. Not now. Will I regret this later? Probably. Definitely! Though, it feels…right. However, right or not, that doesn't mean we can'tplay. Adrenaline begins to spread through my veins. Denielle Keller has always awakened the most primal urges in me, and this is no different.
My arm around her chest loosens, and I trail my index finger over the fabric of her top. I let it glide from her shoulder to where her sleeveless blouse dips in a deepV. When my hand reaches the spot where silk gives way to skin, I stifle a groan.So soft.The moment my fingertips make contact, I'm hyperaware of her—her breathing the only sound in the room.
Denielle trembles against my hold on her lower half. The urge to slip my hand into her blouse and cup her perfect handful is overpowering. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to play.
A voice of reason yells at me to stop, especially after what I just witnessed outside. Something was very wrong with her. She wasn't herself. She didn't want to be touched, let alone manhandled by her ex. She was…scared. And what I want to do to her is anything but gentle. At the same time, in the deepest part of my brain—the part I keep closed off to anyone—a certainty settles in that she will not fearme.
We've been challenging each other for weeks, pushing our fight for dominance to its limits.
I slide my hand from her chest up until my palm loosely wraps around her throat. I let it settle there, waiting for her reaction. Is my instinct correct, or— A low moan escapes her throat, and I have my answer.
Light-headedness forces me to close my eyes. I lower my lips to the shell of her ear. "This changes nothing." It is a mere way of regaining the upper hand over her.
Denielle presses back into my groin, the firmness of her ass amplifying the sharp exhilaration of my swelling cock straining against the zipper of my jeans. The friction is equally intoxicating as it is revolting. This is Denielle. She attempts to look at me, but I force her to remain in place. "You do as I say, understood?" I growl.
"This changes nothing," she confirms, breathy, which is all I need.