Page 33 of Stone
The door was shoved open so hard, the door handle slammed into the frame.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“We’re not finished yet.”
“Oh, yes, we are.”
Spinning around, I was ready to launch into him. I even had my finger pointed, ready to tell him to get the hell out. Then I noticed how his massive frame barely fit in the doorway and the air was sucked from my lungs.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t even consider what was going through my mind, but I also had no chance of curtailing what I was thinking. The man was much hotter than before. I hadn’t paid any attention that he’d changed into jeans and a tee shirt, the material so body hugging I could see every muscle bulging through the fabric. Talk about six-pack abs. Forget it. The man had eight. Twelve. I couldn’t breathe let alone count.
But I longed to run my fingers across every single one several times just to be sure. His arms were massive and there was ink trailing down both, including a wicked-looking dagger. All the venomous words that I’d been poised to say were stripped away.
With his jaw so clenched, his eyes full of fury, and the cords on both sides of his neck pulsing, I was certain the angry man would blow a gasket.
“You know how much I hate when you walk away from me in mid conversation.” His voice was deep, huskier than before.
“I didn’t walk away. I was finished with the conversation. We have nothing to talk about.” I folded my arms, trying to hold my own with the man who stood several inches taller. We both took a step toward each other just like we’d done when we were young.
Only we weren’t youths any longer.
“That’s not how this works,” he insisted.
“Oh, yeah? You’re still trying to run the show, huh?” He was only inches away and my pulse was already racing, the crackling current shifting back and forth killing my anger.
Instead, lighting up my desire like a magic wand.
He’d taken a shower and dear God, he smelled manly, musky with hints of citrus and a splash of exotic spice. With his mouth twisted in frustration, all I could think about was having his lips on my mouth.
And my breasts.
And my pussy.
Nope. I couldn’t do this.
“Right now, you’re playing by my rules. That’s what kept you alive.” He dared take another step forward, sweeping his gaze all the way down to my bare feet. When he grinned, highlighting his dimples, I knew if I didn’t drive him away, I’d never find the courage to do so.
I pushed him. Hard. Hard enough that between the surprise and the force I used, he was pitched backward into the wall.
“I think you should leave,” I said defiantly.
He shook his head as if removing cobwebs and closed the door. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” With one giant stride, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, jerking me toward him. “You’re going to do exactly as I say.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I don’t think you want to find out.”
“To hell with you.” My voice was breathless, unrecognizable. I was as lost in the moment as I was in the man. Or at least I had been once upon a time.
Still, as he crushed his mouth over mine, I allowed the tingling sensations to crawl all over me without mentally complaining. He rolled his other hand down my back, cupping my bottom. He even lifted me off the floor and I was inclined to roll one leg around his hip as I rubbed up and down his strong arms. I couldn’t resist giving in to my deepest longing and slipped my hand around his neck.
Just being able to tangle my fingers in his hair felt a little like a dream come true.
He thrust his tongue inside and between the taste of beer, peppermint, and some kind of barbequed potato chip, I was sinking into a sensation overload. He’d always been a good kisser, but years, miles, and experience had taught him a thing or two. One thing was certain. He knew how to tame a girl’s tongue with ease and style.
