“I don’t know,” she admits with a shrug. “A stupid thing to do.”
“Yeah, you got that goddamn right,” I say, coming over. She takes her tray and sets it down on the counter. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, Meg.”
“Well! He wanted to buy my apartment building and tear it down! Leaving all of my neighbors with nowhere to go!” She is so worked up she keeps flipping her hands around as she speaks, and she looks so hot, all I want to do is rip her clothes off and toss her on that table, having my way with her over and over again.
But I don’t. I try to focus on the problem at hand. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re getting yourself involved in. I deal with very dangerous people.”
“I am aware of the kind of people you deal with,” she says, stepping right up to me so that I can feel her warm, minty breath on my face. “But I don’t have any fucking idea why it would matter to you if I talk to one of them.”
“What?” I ask, tipping my head to the side as I try to figure out what she’s talking about.
“I mean, it’s not like you give a flying fuck what happens to me, anyway, right?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand, stepping toward her until I have her trapped against the wall. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“I’m just a mistake, so who the fuck cares if I get myself in trouble, right?”
I open my mouth to shout back at her, but I have no words, and instead of continuing the argument, I do the one thing I’ve been longing to do since the day I stupidly sent her home.
My mouth crashes down on hers, and after her initial gasp of shock, our tongues begin to twirl in a sensual dance as I press my body to hers against the wall, deepening the kiss.
Her hands tangle in my hair as I slide my hands up her sides, stopping just short of her bra line, but it’s all I can do to keep from thumbing her nipples through her clothing as memories of what she tastes like, what she feels like, and how she makes me feel, all come racing back to me.
If she thinks I don’t care about her, she’s wrong. Dead wrong.
CHAPTER30
MEGHAN
Hunter is such an asshole sometimes. I just want to slug him, but as we stand there arguing about whether or not I should’ve said something to that slimeball who wanted to take over my apartment building, I can’t help but think about how fucking sexy Hunter is, even when he’s mad—especially when he’s mad.
The next thing I know, he has me pinned to the wall with his tongue down my throat, and rather than protesting or trying to get away, my leg is up over his hip, and I am thrusting into him like a bitch in heat.
This is stupid. I know that. I should be pushing him away and telling him he’s already made his choice. Why would he want to make the same mistake twice? But when his thumbs find my nipples through my clothing, he’s pinching them so hard, I can hardly breathe. My head tips back against the wall, and I begin to grind into him even harder.
My apron comes off first, followed by a flurry of shoes and socks, and his buttons are about to be flung off this shirt, too. Our hands fly over each other’s clothes, ripping and tearing, touching and teasing. When I am down to my bra and panties, and Hunter is in his boxers, I realize the fucking door is standing wide open where anyone and everyone can come by and peek their head in.
“Hunter!” I say as I pull my mouth away from his.
“Oh, Meg,” he groans, trying to find my lips again.
I yank myself free once more. “Wait!” I shout at him, but he’s so occupied with my breasts, which he is squeezing and massaging so that I want to cry out in ecstasy already, that he’s not really listening. “The door!”
“I adore you, too, baby,” he says as his mouth clamps down on the top of my breast, and he begins to lick and suck, his mouth dipping down to find my nipple.
“No!” I jerk away from him again. “Not adore—the door! It’s open, goddammit!”
Hunter lifts his head to look at me, his eyes locking on mine, and the bewildered expression on his face tells me he’s only capable of thinking with one head right now, and it’s not the one on his shoulders.
“Go close the fucking door!” I shout.
“Oh, right,” he says, finally getting it, but he doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he kisses me again, tugging me across the room with him as he kicks the door closed. Then lifts me into his arms and moves to a couch across from where we started this game. I don’t know if he locked the door or not, but as he lays me flat on my back and begins to kiss me again, I don’t care. The whole fucking club can pour in here and watch if they want to. I just need this man inside of me—right now.
My bra comes off with a snap, and then his tongue is rolling around one nipple while the other is in his hands, and he’s examining it like an expert. He’s on his knees by the couch next to me, but that’s too far away. I want him up here, inside of me now.
Scrambling up to sitting, I grab hold of his waist and tug, and he gets the picture. He slips out of his boxers and yanks my panties off, and I grab hold of his firm ass, my nails digging in as he climbs on top of me. My back is positioned against the armrest, which gives me more leverage as he pushes inside of me. He has my legs spread so wide, he goes all the way in, deep, before he is buried up to the hilt, and I can’t help the noises that are coming out of my mouth as he works me hard.
“Fuck!” I say as he reaches between us to find my clit. He twirls it with his thumb until I toss my head back and slam it into the couch. I don’t even feel it. I want to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel, so I slide my hand between his legs, down his backside, and reach his balls. It’s hard to do more than just run my fingertips over them in this position, but he likes it and begins to grunt even harder the more I touch them.