A few minutes later, we pull up at my apartment because right now I don’t want to be alone, and I have a feeling he doesn’t either.
I put the car in park. “You should come inside and let me look at that cut.”
“So, first we’re Bonnie and Clyde. Now we’re playing doctor?”
Cute. Real freaking cute. Cute never made my ovaries tingle until now.
I open the door and climb out. “Are you coming in or are you just going to sit there all night?”
I swear I hear him mumble, “I’m definitely coming.”
Blaze follows me all the way to my front door, bracing himself in the frame before he comes inside. My entire body is humming with nervous energy. This. This feeling, this energy. This is what they call chemistry. It has to be. We both know exactly what this means, rational thought be damned. We’re running on chemistry now. I lift my eyes to look at him. He’s gorgeous, jaw-droppingly so. Even with a bruised cheek and bloody eye.
“I know you invited me in, and believe me, I will kick myself in the nuts for walking away, but that’s exactly what I should do.” He licks his lips. His tongue moves slow and deliberate over his bottom lip.
God, that lip.
God, that tongue.
His eyes sweep over my face. “Because if I step through this door—if I get one fucking foot inside—I’m going to end up fucking you. Then I’m going to fuck you again. And again. Every chance I get until there’s nothing left of either one of us.” His gaze falls to my lips, then to my cleavage, down my stomach and back up again. “You ready for that?”
I swallow hard and clench my thighs because I have no doubt he means every word he says. “I’m ready.”
Am I ready?
Is he kidding?
Does a bear shit in the woods?
Yes. A thousand times yes. I’ve been ready since he wrote on my hand at the police station.
It’s like a switch has flipped and suddenly my hands are all over him. His hands are all over me. I am aching. Aching like I’ve never ached before.
He grips my hips and walks me backward until the wall stops us. “I need you, Adrienne. More than I’ve ever needed anything. But tomorrow morning when you wake up and—”
I stop him with a finger over his lips. “Don’t. I’m not worried about tomorrow.”
There’s only tonight. Tonight, we share the same pain. Tonight, we speak the same language.
He brings his hand up my neck and to the side of my face. “The world, our world, is going to crumble after this.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time my world has crumbled. I think I can handle it.”
He smiles. “I know you can.” His eyes lock with mine. “You are so fucking perfect,” he says. Then he cups my ass with both hands and hoists me up against the wall. I swing my legs up and cinch them around his waist, and I feel it. His length against my core, hard and massive, and holy fuck. Holy fuuuuuck. I want him. I want all of him. I want everything, and he hasn’t even done anything to me yet.
He lowers his head and brushes his lips over mine. “I’m going to kiss you now. You good with that?”
My eyes flutter closed as I moan my response. “Mmhmm.”
He parts my lips with his tongue then kisses me. Like a match kisses gasoline. A fire sparks, and my fingers tangle in his hair. Tugging. Pulling. Wanting. Needing. He grinds his hips against mine and deepens the kiss. It’s sensual and possessive and completely intoxicating. His hands move to my waist then slip inside my shirt. His fingers dig into my skin like he’s trying to open me up and find his way inside. My back arches into him, and he makes this sound, this feral, hungry sound then presses himself against me harder. He’s dry fucking me against my living room wall, and I am lost. Completely gone.
Slowly, as if it physically hurts him to do it, he pulls his mouth away. After several deep breaths, I unwrap my legs from his waist, and he lowers me to the floor. He leans in until we’re forehead to forehead, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. This is my new favorite place to be, breathing him in. I don’t even care about the blood on his face. His hot breath warms my skin, and he smiles. Smiles. God, that smile. I feel it against my own. He smells like soap and leather… and man. All man. This scent, his scent, is crack. I’m addicted to it. Strung out. I can’t think straight.
“I want you to fucking scream,” he whispers against my mouth.
“I want you to make me.”
He breathes in slowly through his nose, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring the feel of this. “Jesus Christ, Adrienne.” Then he straightens up and pushes my hair away from my face. “Hold up your arms.”
I lift my arms, and he pulls off my shirt and throws it to the floor. He runs his finger under the edge of my bra, barely brushing my nipple. His hand glides over my ribs and across my stomach then lower. Gentle, but not in a timid way. More like he’s holding back, reining himself in.
“You don’t have to be careful,” I tell him.
“You couldn’t handle me any other way.”
“Try me.”
I close my eyes when he unfastens the button on my shorts then grabs my zipper. A million butterflies swarm in my stomach, and my heart hammers in my chest as he begins to pull it down. He slides both hands inside my shorts, then over my hips, around to my ass. An appreciative growl echoes deep in his throat when he squeezes hard with both hands. I lean my head back, and Blaze licks a trail up the column of my neck, stopping below my ear to bite the sensitive skin there. My long hair tickles the bare skin on my back. He pushes my shorts down until they fall to the floor, and I kick them to the side.
Taking me by the ass, he lifts me up and carries me across the room to set me on the table behind my sofa. A candle falls on the sofa then rolls off onto the floor with a crash.
Blaze winces. “Shit. Sorry.”
I cup his cheeks, bringing his attention back where it belongs. “Forget it.” We could break every candle I own, and I wouldn’t give one single fuck right now.
“I’ll buy you a new one. Fuck, I’ll buy you a hundred new ones.”
“Blaze.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m not worried about the fucking candle.”
His eyes flash, and he smirks. Like he’s proud of something. Then I realize it’s the first time he’s ever heard me say the word fuck after I gave him so much grief about it the first night we met. He likes it. I like that he likes it.
He pushes my knees apart, spreading my legs wide and taking me all in. His fingers trace the slit between my wet folds. His lips part as he pinches my clit, soft at first, then harder. Tiny bolts of electricity shoot from my stomach all the way to my toes. He’s staring at me with raw fascination. Then his breath falters, and he shudders. Like I’m making him weak. Like touching me is the air that keeps him alive. I have never felt so worshiped.
He reaches for my right hand, bringing it to meet his. “Touch yourself.”
With his hand flat on top of mine, I rub my clit. He sucks in a breath then groans. I throw my head back and increase the pressure. He presses his hand harder on mine then pushes my finger inside me.
Oh. God.
He slides his own finger in with mine. “Dear God.” He inches another finger inside, filling me, stretching me. It hurts, but I don’t ever want it to stop. “Are you always this…” He pumps in and out, making me moan and grip the edge of the table with my free hand. “Fuck.” He licks his lips. “So fucking wet.”