Page 65 of The Secret
Con stopped short, looking a little bewildered.
I walked right into him, pressing myself against his ass, and he shivered. “Ignore them unless you’re rethinking the back hallway,” I warned.
Con looked at me over his shoulder. “Not a chance. I have plans.”
Then he pulled away and marched to the passenger’s side of my truck.
Plans.I nearly groaned. It had been a long time since I’d let anyone lead the show, especially when it came to sex. But then again, I’d never let myself want anyone with this kind of ferocity either. And I knew without a doubt that whatever Con wanted, I wanted too.
* * *
We clambered up the stairs from the back alley into my one-bedroom apartment over the shop and burst through the door into the kitchen like we were racing. Con stopped in the middle of the room and spun to face me, his chest heaving like he’d run way more than a single flight of stairs.
We stared at each other for a beat, tension arcing between us like electric currents so the air nearly crackled with it. The light in here was hardly better than outside—just one anemic bulb under the microwave lit the space, but it was enough to see Constantine clearly. His eyes were wild and his hair was a mess, probably because he’d spent the entire ride home gripping it like he knew if he didn’t hold onto something, he’d be grabbing ontome. Ordinarily I’d have taken the opportunity to give him shit about it, but I couldn’t because I knew exactly what he was feeling, and I knew if he’d unleashed it then and there, we’d’ve ended up wrapped around a tree.
Now, though, there was nothing to stop us, and still, Con stopped.
“Con, are you—”
“Water,” he croaked out at the same time.
“What?”
“A glass of water. Please?”
I blinked. “Yeah. Uh.” My cock was so hard, I could barely remember what water was, let alone how to obtain any. I stared blankly around the kitchen with its pale-yellow cabinets and wooden countertops like I’d never been here before.
Con snickered and clapped a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said when I looked at him. “Sorry. Just. I need a minute or it’s gonna be over too fast and I… you look so fucking cute.” He laughed again helplessly, even as he pushed his hand against the front of his jeans.
I stalked forward, crowded him up against the wall, and without a word, took his mouth in a swift, hard kiss that knocked the breath from both our lungs as our tongues tangled together.
He pushed me back. “I changed my mind,” he said. “No waiting. Bedroom. Now.”
I led him through the tiny living area, which held a small folding table, two chairs, a sofa, and a television set propped atop a bookcase I’d rigged out of cement blocks and reclaimed wood, then into my room. I flipped up the light switch to reveal a queen-sized bed, hastily made up with a plain navy comforter, a pair of nightstands I’d brought from my grandmother’s place, and a hanging mirror.
“Do youlivehere?” Constantine said, stepping into the room behind me. “I’ve seen jail cells better tricked out.”
“You really want to talk about my style of decorating now, Ross?” I demanded.
“This isn’t a style. This is an absence of style,” he teased, because he was Constantine and he couldn’tnot. But then he yanked at my waistband to pull me closer and kissed me while he attacked the buttons on my shirt.
“What can I tell you?” I said breathlessly when he finally released my mouth. “I save my creativity for the flowers.” I yanked his shirt up, pulling it loose from his pants. “And for other things.”
I drew his t-shirt over his head so fast I heard something rip. I opened his jeans, and pushed them down over his hips just an inch or two, then took a second to look down and admire the picture he made, all those acres of smooth skin on display. He was so fuckinggorgeous, I had to bite my tongue against the avalanche of words that popped into my brain.
Constantine didn’t seem to have that problem.
“I want you,” he said.
“Same.” I reached around him to clutch his ass and tried to haul him against me, but his hand on my chest stopped me.
“I mean,I want you,” Constantine said. His blue eyes lit up the entire room and his hand trailed around to cupmyass in demonstration.
I felt my lips part in surprise.
“Unless you’re not into that,” he amended quickly. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be…”
“No! No, I’m into it! I’mveryinto it.” Understatement of the millennium based on how hard my cock was pulsing. “I just haven’t donethatin a while. Not in years.” Adecade,even. I hadn’t wanted to. But it shocked me how badly I wanted it right now. How much I wanted him toclaim meright now, just as he had back at the bar.
