Page 63 of Crashed
His back muscles tensed under her hands, and she realized she’d wrapped herself around him instinctively.
That brought her up short.
Wise the hell up, Alex.
His dark gaze zeroed in on her mouth. If he kissed her right now, she’d be lost. “You don’t owe me an explanation.
You’ve been busy with your suit buddies, whatever.” She shoved at his chest to get some space and shrugged. “Hey, I get it. Whores and five-star restaurants don’t mix, right?”
Suddenly his hands were on her ass, and she was up against the wall. He shoved her higher, so they were eye level, and that big hard body pressed into hers. His solid thighs were wedged between hers, forcing her to open for him, and he ground the hard ridge of his erection against her center. The delicious pressure had her crying out. Then he stepped back from the wall suddenly, taking her with him.
Just long enough for one of those big hands to leave her butt and come down again on the same cheek with a loud smack.
Heat hit her face, anger and—dammit—lust firing her blood. She fought to get free, but he just pressed into her harder.
“You’re not going anywhere. You are not running away. You will listen to me.” She turned away, but he grabbed her chin, using his hips to hold her where he wanted her, and made her look at him. “I didn’t go to the dinner meeting…
something else came up. Something that kept me from you.”
He cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn about five-star restaurants, and if you call yourself a whore once more, just once, I’ll put you over my knee.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.
Heat flashed behind his eyes. “Try me.”
Her lower belly clenched at his words, remembering the way he’d spanked her over her kitchen table, and she barely resisted rubbing up against that scorching-hot flesh still pressed between her thighs. “So what? We’re still doing this?” She bit her lip, hated the strain in her voice, the need he had to have heard. Idiot.
He squeezed her ass. “I just need a couple days. That’s all. I have… There’s something I need to finalize, something that requires my entire focus. Believe me, no one will be happier than me when it’s over.”
She wanted to question him further, ask him about the shirt in his bathroom. Tell him what an asshole he’d been, that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But he chose that moment to bury his face against her throat and scrape his teeth against her skin, nipping then sucking away the sting, and the words got stuck in her throat.
“I’ve been going out of my mind, baby.”
He ground against her again, and she moaned, circling her hips, reaching for the release that was already so close just from having him pressed against her. God, she was pathetic, weak. She let her head fall back against the warm steel behind her in an attempt to ground herself, to regain some common sense. But her body didn’t give a flying fuck about common sense—it cried out to have him inside her again.
“Say you’ll wait, Alex. Say that you’ll give me a couple days.”
Right then, she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. All her doubts were dissolving into a puddle at his feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was burning from the inside out. His tongue met hers, and she felt each sensual slide, each wild thrust between her quivering thighs. The world vanished around her. Her body didn’t want anything to do with logic, it wanted Deacon, his hands, his mouth, his cock inside her.
He pulled back, kissing her jaw, her neck, that spot below her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Her chest squeezed. Yeah, she was still pissed, hurt after what happened, the way he’d acted, but maybe… “For canceling our plans. God, I missed you.”
What? She froze. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head.
No “sorry for doubting you, for believing you could be sleeping with someone else behind my back.” No “sorry for letting you walk away and making you feel like the worthless whore that asshole had mistaken you for.” And no explanation for the time he suddenly needed or why there was a shirt in his bathroom covered in pink goddamn lipstick.
She shoved his shoulders, hard. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You can’t think of anything else? Nothing?”
“Alex…”
“Jesus, you really are nothing but a self-centered asshole, aren’t you?”
He’d stilled but kept his arms around her, not letting her push him away. “Talk to me, don’t fucking push me away, and don’t shut me out.”
Shut him out? He was the one keeping secrets and acting like a jerk.
This might be nothing but a business deal to him, but it wasn’t to her, not anymore. She’d tried to keep her emotions out of it, but she’d failed, miserably. There was no point denying it anymore. She wanted what he would never give her.
Deacon had been ashamed of her. So ashamed the woman he’d been seen out with over the last two weeks had been pegged as some high-class call girl, that he’d canceled their dinner plans to avoid more embarrassment. He could give her all the excuses he wanted, but that was the real reason. To him, she would never be good enough. And that hurt. A lot.
