Page 69 of Crazy Thing

Because Darius Brighton is here, inside my cramped bus in the middle of a storm, with his lips on my lips and his hands on my body.

And the truth is…I don’t want him to leave.

As long as he keeps kissing me, I don’t care if it’s right or if it’s wrong. Since the day I started working for him—maybe even before that—my soul has been begging for this. Now, I’m ready to give in.

Tongues tangled together, I clutch a handful of his hair as he urgently kicks my laundry hamper out of the way and pushes me up against my mini fridge.

“I can’t keep pretending, Ziggy.” His fingers grasp my hips and tighten.

I stroke a hand down his back, keeping him close to me as I speak against his mouth. “Pretending what…?”

He lifts me onto the cluttered kitchen counter, bending to suck on my throat and jaw. His expensive cologne fills my head, making me dizzy.

“Pretending I haven’t been wanting you. That I haven’tbeen craving you. Resisting my attraction to you has been driving me crazy.”

My heart gets tangled inside my throat. Because I feel the same.

My knees lock around his hips—no easy feat with the way my satiny gown is plastered to my skin. I hold Darius’s face in my hands, forcing him to look at me in the darkness of the bus.

“Thisiscrazy,” I whisper. “Do we even know what we’re doing?”

Muted light from the dim bulb above my toaster oven washes over his handsome face. His expression looks so earnest, a contradiction to the story I’ve been replaying in my head. The story that says he’s a liar. The story that says he’s one orgasm away from betraying me again.

He slips a large hand through the slit of my dress, slowly running a palm up the side of my thigh. “I don’t care that it doesn’t make sense. For once in my life, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to overanalyze this to death. I just want to feel. I want to feel…you.”

Darius lowers his lips to my neck, letting his tongue blaze a fiery path along my collarbone. He burrows his nose against my chest, making a feral sound as he breathes me in.

“Fairy Girl, will you let me feel you tonight?” He gives my thigh a squeeze that sends sparks of lightning shooting to my core.

My head drops back against the window behind me where rain lashes against the glass. My legs squeeze around him, holding him closer to me. “Yes. Feel me, Darius.”

His hands get to work on unhooking the clasps at the front of my soaked dress. One by one by one. As the fabric of my corset loosens, revealing my breasts, Darius groans.

His eyes flick up and down my torso, taking in every inch of me.

I’m not particularly insecure about my body. Whenever I’m lacking in confidence, I like to remind myself that what’s on the inside matters way more than the particular way my flesh clings to my bones.

But it’s impossible not to feel self-conscious with the way this man is always inspecting me. Like he’s trying to see past the layers of my skin, all the way into my soul.

He straightens up, just long enough to discard my dress and my panties to the floor. Now, I’m fully nude.

I barely manage to loosen his bow tie and peel him out of his tuxedo jacket before he grasps my upper thighs, spreading them wide.

“No fair. I want you naked, too.” I whine.

He strokes a finger over my pouting bottom lip. “Shush. Wait your turn. Let me enjoy you.”

I’d love to protest some more but what would be the point? Darius is clearly in control here. And secretly, I’m liking it.

His hands are strong and warm on my damp, goosebump covered skin. His eyes burn with lust as he takes me in.

“Fuck. Look at you. Every pretty shade of pink.” He strokes two fingers through my seam where I’m already dripping for him.

He gently eases inside, coating his digits with my wetness.

“Pink looks good on you, Fairy Girl. I can’t decide which shade is my favorite.” He sucks those drenched fingers into his mouth, savoring my nectar like it’s a rare delicacy. “The bubblegum pink of your hair or your rosy pink nipples oryour candy pink mouth or that shade of cotton candy between your legs.”

I shiver.

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