Page 44 of Hart of Darkness
He snatched a cup from the cabinet, added ice, then water from the built-in feature on the fridge.
When he handed me the cup, his fingers grazed mine ever so lightly, and tingles shot up along my scalp. Usually, I only felt that way when my hairdresser shampooed my hair.
My damn heartbeat was on a collision course with my ribs. I didn’t waste any time gulping down the cool liquid, which didn’t make a dent in quenching the fire burning a hole in my throat, nor did it calm the need that pulsed in my erect nipples.
Once the cup was empty, I set it down on the counter, looking at the floor rather than Dillon. I was afraid I would combust if I met his gaze.
Get a grip, woman. You’re strong. You’re confident, and no one rattles your cage. They haven’t since Lou toughened you up.
I mentally slapped myself for being a nervous ninny. I’d slept with men before. Yet if I were being honest with myself, I was afraid that one night with Dillon Hart would ruin me. I wasn’t completely sure I was ready to be ruined. I had a good life. I was working on getting my revenge on Cory. I got laid when I wanted. I didn’t have to worry about someone breaking my heart or me breaking his.
Dillon, who hadn’t left my personal space, placed a finger underneath my chin, gentle but firm. “Are you calm now? You seem nervous. Is it Ted? Did you tell him about Nadine?”
He’d said Ted’s name as though he were ready to do a number on him, just as he’d done on that boy in my gang who had messed with Grace. Nevertheless, at the sound of Ted’s name, my head came up and my eyes met his. My lust-filled bubble burst, and I felt a small amount of relief. For the moment, I didn’t want to crawl up Dillon’s hard body. I had to get down to the precinct.
“We’ve been playing phone tag.” My voice sounded like Minnie Mouse.
Dillon’s tongue snaked out like one of the bearded dragons I loved. And in the blink of an eye, that lust, primal and strong, came back with a vengeance. Ted’s name was forgotten. The room dimmed. The hum of the fridge played like soft music, setting the mood. And boy, the mood was filled with tension, lust, anticipation, and heavy breathing, on my part anyway.
My chest rose, pushing out my big breasts that I sometimes wished were a tad smaller, only because they occasionally got in the way. But this was one time I wanted them to get in the way. I wanted to will Dillon’s hands to grab onto them, or at least relieve the pain throbbing in my nipples.
His gaze lowered the minute my chest lifted on an inhale. This time, he ran his tongue over his lip ring. His hooded eyes told me a story I would never write for the paper—maybe my journal or a filthy romance novel. Despite all that, I was dying to know how that shiny, smooth lip ring would feel against my clit.
As though we were slow dancing, he shaped my hips, turned me so my back was leaning against the counter, then caged me in as if I were an animal he was trying to tame.
I wanted to scream that I was a bad girl and needed to be taught a lesson. I wasn’t into soft sex or making love. On the last word, I silently laughed. I wasn’t sure what love was or how it felt. The word alone was foreign to me. I’d lived in foster care, where families fought, bickered, yelled, and hardly laughed. I’d never heard the word “love” uttered from one spouse to another. The closest anyone had come to showing me what love could be like was my boss, Bruce, and his family. The man got all sappy when he mentioned his wife. And while Ted was a widower, he’d treated me like a daughter, although he hadn’t told me he loved me.
Despite all that, I liked sex rough, hard, and fast. I stared into Dillon’s whiskey-colored eyes that dripped with trouble, the good kind, the kind that was sure to please me in every way, and I knew he was the right man for the job.
I itched to play with his tousled hair that had waves going in all directions—a look that suited him to a T. Then there were his lips. I took a breath. His full and perfectly shaped lips softened his rough, tatted, pierced, bad-boy appearance.
His hands went on each side of me. “If we’re going to work together, then I think we need to come to an understanding.” He untied my scarf before he dipped his head. As he did, a lock of hair fell forward, grazing my face as softly as a feather.
I shivered.
He chuckled as he kissed my scar—the part that was sticking out of my shirt. “I do want to murder Calderon for doing this to you.”
Cory’s name should’ve jolted me back to reality, but as Dillon lightly pressed his body against mine, all that made sense was to not think, just feel—feel his lips grazing my neck, his erection pressing against my abdomen, his breath tickling my skin.
My body became like warm saltwater taffy, pliable, bendable, soft, and gooey.
His lips traveled up to settle on my ear. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” He grabbed hold of my braid then tugged, causing my head to fall back. Then he nibbled on my ear and my neck, almost biting me in some places, which was enough to make me push my hips into him.
He groaned.
I moaned.
“I want you, Dillon. From the moment I saw you the other night.”
I could feel him grin against my jaw. “I’d like to say the same, but I think I’ve admired you since our gang days.”
I tensed.
He let go of my braid, allowing me to right my head.
His hooded gaze was full of so much emotion. “Did I scare you?”
Words were on my tongue, but my jaw wouldn’t work. I didn’t scare so easily, not anymore. Oh, I’d been a timid soul after Cory did a number on me. But Lou had made damn certain that I would never be afraid to walk in the dark.
