Page 38 of Hostile Cravings
“Don’t walk on the balcony like that.”
His brow shot up.
“Hey, if you can scold me for wearing what I wear, I can scold you for walking out there naked. I already have that trampymanager trying to get in your pants. I don’t need to fight the rest of the women in this resort for your attention.”
He laughed as he crawled back into bed, taking the wine glass away from me and pinning my arms to the side of my head. “You don’t have to fight for my attention. I think I want an appetizer before our dinner gets here.”
My stomach flipped, my legs twisting with excitement as he kissed me with an intensity that stirred the flames in me. He continued to ravage me until our dinner came and he ordered them to leave it at the door because he hadn’t finished fucking me. I should have scolded him for talking about me like that, but that was Tyson, and it was the comfortable way we were with each other. One that continued to morph with every touch, every moan, and every climax that filled the rest of our night.
By the time we’d completely exhausted ourselves, our dinner was cold again and both of us were too tired to get up. I snuggled into his chest, wondering why it felt so comfortable. I never spent the night with men. There was a line there I didn’t want to cross. I took them in back rooms and cars, in the shadowed hallways of clubs, my father’s men always blocking entry or standing guard. But I never let one close enough to hold me. Until now. With Tyson it was different and even though our hatred for each other had overshadowed our relationship for years, being in his arms felt right.
“Don’t get comfortable, Anj,” Tyson grumbled as if he read my thoughts. I adjusted my head to peek up at him. “This is the second time we’ve shared this bed. I don’t like sharing, so don’t make it a habit.”
I bit his chest, and he grabbed my face, his other hand sinking into my hair and twisting strands into his grip.
“Don’t be an asshole,” I retorted, wincing as he tugged hard.
“Don’t be a cunt,” he growled.
“You like that word, Tyson? It comes out of your mouth anawful lot.” The aggressive banter had returned, and I relaxed into the ease of it.
“I normally don’t like that word unless I’m using it for you. You bring it out in me.”
“Huh, you bring out a stomach-turning bile kind of feeling in me.” I tried not to smile and saw the slight twitch of his lip. He was enjoying this as much as I was. Whatever this was that we had, neither of us knew what to do with it.
“Go to sleep, bitch, or I’ll make you sleep on the floor,” he groused, pushing me off his chest.
“But then you wouldn’t have such easy access to my body.” I rolled over, turning my back on him and pulling the sheets up higher.
Within seconds, he turned his body into mine, spooning me, his hand coming around to cup my breast. “I can fuck you just as easily on the floor as I can in the bed, Anj. Bend you over and tear you up so much I leave rug burns on those knees.”
“Mmm, is that a promise?”
His dick jumped, which was surprising with how many times we’d had sex. The man had a stamina that rivaled any man I’d met, and the thought sent a tingle of currents flooding my body.
“We can try that tomorrow,” he said, nibbling my shoulder. “Go to sleep before I toss you out of this bed.”
I pushed into him, his hand pulling me even further against his chest, and relaxed into his hold. I listened to his calming breaths as his body spooned mine, thinking of how natural this felt when it shouldn’t have. We’d shifted from enemies to lovers quickly and as much as it excited me, worry nagged at the back of my mind. This wasn’t us. Two people who cuddled in bed together after sex or even had sex. I chewed the inside of my cheek and covered his hand with mine, unsure of where this was heading and with a nagging suspicion that it was all too good to be true.
Chapter Eleven
TYSON
Angie was asleep in my arms. I’d held her the entire night as if even in sleep I didn’t want her slipping from my grasp. The thought overwhelmed me as I gently disentangled myself from her body, remembering how I’d done the same thing the morning before. She fit so perfectly in my hold, her body molding to mine like we were meant to be together. Rolling over, I stared at the ceiling. This was dangerous, an attachment I didn’t want, one I didn’t need. I ran my hand through my hair, trying my best not to wake her. She shifted her body like she knew I no longer held her and turned over, curling into me, her hand stretching over my body. The steady rise and fall of her chest let me know she was still asleep, and I took the moment to appreciate how peaceful this was.
Angie brought out a part of me I didn’t know how to deal with, one I’d hidden for years, only revealing it to those closest to me. I didn’t need attachment, commitment, love. Sex was all I wanted, all I’d told myself I needed.
Taking a strand of her hair, I let my fingers drift along it. I’d wanted Angie. That realization burned through me like a raging fire that scorched the place in my heart that had been hers all theseyears. Shadowed with my irritation and hatred so that I didn’t have to admit it.
And now she was mine. That thought settled too well in my chest and no matter how I tried to push it away, I couldn’t. The barriers we’d placed between us had cracked and there was no putting them back in place. No matter how many times we tried.
She nuzzled her face into my chest and kissed it, sending my pulse racing. As if her action worried her, she peeked up at me, a crease between her eyes. I drew my arm around her and pulled her further into me, reassuring her and myself that this was all right, and she relaxed, giving me a fantastic smile.
“Good morning,” she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes. I reached my finger over to sweep away the rest.
“It will be once I’m buried deep inside of you.”
“You’re so romantic,” she said, rolling her eyes.
