Page 17 of Wicked Temptations
“Excuse me?” His eyes were blazing in the dim light. “You don’t get to—”
“I know I don’t get to, but I’m doing it anyway.” My hand was flat against his chest, my fingers splayed over his collarbones in a way that made me feel powerful and in control. “I’m done watching other people touch you.
“You don’t get to decide who I talk to.” His voice shook with fury. “You made it really fucking clear you can’t stand me.”
“Again. I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. You—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching hard enough I could see the muscle jump. “What do you want, Jude? Tell me right now what you actually want.”
The corridor was dark and empty; the sound of the crowd had long faded. We were alone back here, in the guts of the staff area where no one would come unless they were looking. I had one hand on his chest and the other braced against the wall beside his head, closing him in despite his bulkier frame.
I’d been fighting this since the moment I met him, shoving down want and need because it terrified me. Because wanting someone this much meant they could destroy me.
But watching another man touch him tonight had broken something loose inside me. It was the last defense I’d been clinging to.
“You,” I said. The word came out rough, scraped raw from somewhere deep in my chest. “I want you. And I’m sick of pretending I don’t.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Ash’s eyes went wide in the darkness, his breath catching audibly.
Then he grabbed the front of my vest and yanked me in, and our mouths crashed together.
It wasn’t gentle. It couldn’t be, not with weeks of tension finally breaking, not with anger and want and desperation all tangling together.
He bit my lower lip hard enough to hurt, and I groaned and pressed closer, getting my thigh between his legs. His hands were already working at my buckles, fingers fumbling with straps I wished weren’t there. I was doing the same to his vest, both of us trying to get through layers of gear without stopping the kiss.
I had his shoulder harness undone and his shirt pulled free before I could second-guess a thing.
Ash pulled back just enough to speak, his pupils blown wide. “Someone could—”
“Let them.” I kissed down his jaw, his throat, finding the places that made his breath hitch. Let them see! Let that guy see me staking my claim on Ash here, against a fucking wall like an animal.
But then Ash changed it up. Unpredictable as always.
He made a sound low in his throat and spun us, pushing my back against the wall instead. His thigh jammed between my legs, forcing me to spread them apart, and the pressure was perfect and not nearly enough. “Say it again.”
“Which part?”
“That you want me.” His hand slid up under my shirt, nails scraping over my ribs as he pinned me there. “Say it.”
“I want you,” I managed. “So fucking much it’s ruining me.”
“Good.” He leaned in to bite my throat, definitely hard enough to leave a mark, and I didn’t care. I wanted it. I wanted evidence of this tomorrow during our performance, wanted to feel the ache and remember how good it could be to give in to impulses.
His hands were on my belt now, and mine were on his, and we were both breathing hard, pressed together in the dark with our tactical gear half-undone. This was insane. We were still in costume, still at work; anyone could walk down this corridor and find us. But I just didn’t give a flying fuck. Not when Ash’s hand finally got my belt open and slipped inside, not when I was doing the same to him, not when we were both making sounds that would be embarrassing later but felt necessary now.
“Turn around.” Ash growled the words into my mouth. His voice made my knees weak.
But that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
I wanted him, but I wanted to takehim. I wanted to hold him against the wall and spilt him open until he screamed my name.
“Make me.”
His eyes narrowed, and then he was using those strong arms to spin me.
Ash pressed my chest against the wall, trapping me with his body. He held me there with a fist in my hair while his other hand worked my cargo pants down just enough. The concrete was rough against my palms and a shock against my freed cock, and it echoed my gasps back at me.
This really wasn’t what I’d planned. I wanted him under me, beneath me on his knees, mouth open and waiting. Not manhandling me into position while parting my ass cheeks like I was a whore.
