But this wasn’t that kind of kiss.
No.
Oddly enough, it seemed to have the same uncontrolled passion as a man who’d just gotten out of prison, who’d been denied human contact for far too many years, who was desperate for the feel and taste of a woman.
His lips bruised into mine, creating this sort of aching need that started at the contact then ballooned outward until it filled me completely.
It became this tightness in my chest, this pressure on my lower stomach, this throbbing sensation between my thighs.
Cary’s teeth nipped my lower lip, seeking entrance that I immediately gave him. I was too consumed in the sensations assaulting my body all at once to even begin to overthink it.
I just wanted to feel it.
I wanted to know more of it.
I wanted him to show me.
I’d been almost painfully aware of the fact that something had always been “missing” for me when it came to intimacy. There was something my body hinted at, but never fully experienced.
Years.
I’d been in my marriage for years without any of it.
I’d been happy with Raúl for a long time without getting more than a hint of it.
But with Cary? Within seconds of contact, my body seemed to ignite with this new sort of knowledge, this acute sort of need I’d never known before.
His tongue moved inside to claim mine as I pressed my thighs tightly together in an attempt to ease the ache growing there.
Cary’s arms grabbed me, shifting me until I was straddling his waist. Both his hands moved, framing the sides of my face as he deepend the kiss.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt as fully, I don’t know, ‘claimed’ as I felt right an that moment.
Even if it was just for that moment, I decided nothing had ever felt quite as good as being his.
My arms lifted, slipping around the back of his neck, and folding there as I pressed into his chest.
A low, mewling noise escaped me as my breasts—heavier than usual and overly sensitive—pressed to his firm chest.
I barely resisted the urge to reach up and rip off my top, wanting more than anything to feel my bare breasts against his heated skin, to feel his hands roaming over me without any barrier.
Cary’s hands had just moved from my neck and down to my shoulders when there was a sudden pounding on the door that had us both jolting and flying apart.
Panic gripped my system as Cary seemed to struggle for a second to shift from kissing to action.
He’d just turned to reach for the gun on his nightstand when a voice called through the door.
“Let me in. I brought donuts. They’re kind of stale, but, y’know, edible.”
“Dezi?” I whispered.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Cary growled.
It was the first time I’d ever heard him be anything other than kind and patient. It made no sense, but the fierceness in his voice only made the throbbing between my thighs intensify.
“Welp. It appears I’m a little drunk,” Dezi called through the door even as we heard him stumble and slam into the door. “And the clubhouse is far, far away,” he added, slurring a bit.
Cary’s gaze slid to mine like he was looking for permission.
“You have to let him in,” I whispered, even as I worried that the desire flooding my system would be too clearly etched on my face.
“What’s the matter?” Cary asked after letting out a sigh and making his way to the door. “Couldn’t find a woman to go home with?” he asked, pulling it open to reveal a wobbly Dezi who was holding a crushed donut box to his chest.
“I’d hardly be doing my best work in this condition,” Dezi declared, giving Cary a bleary-eyed smile. “I couldn’t do that to a lady. I have a reputation to uphold, you know,” he added, nodding slowly, and I swear he almost fell asleep on the downward motion of said nod.
“Christ, how much did you drink?” Cary asked, trying to wrestle the donut box out of Dezi’s hold, but he was clutching it like a security blanket.
“Hey, not my fault there was a divorce party,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “No one drinks as hard as a newly single woman and her pack of chicks who never liked the asshole she’d married in the first place. We did a crawl.”
“Crawl being the operative word,” Cary agreed, wrapping an arm around his stumbling friend and pulling him into the room. “Sit,” he demanded, pushing him onto his bed.
“Bed. Good,” Dezi agreed, kicking out of his shoes, then climbing up fully, still holding his box of donuts.
Cary’s gaze slid to mine, showing both amusement and resignation.
Then there was a crash that had us both whipping our heads over to see Dezi had fallen off the bed.
“Floor’s good too,” he murmured as he rolled onto his side, tucked his donut box under his face like a pillow, and promptly passed out.
And, well, that was that, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t like we could continue on with Dezi right there a couple feet away.
Maybe it was for the best, anyway.
It was only going to muddy things between us.
At least, that was what I was trying to tell myself as I tried to fall back to sleep.
My body, still aching with unmet need, had other things to say, though.
CHAPTER TEN
Cary
Fucking Dezi.
I normally looked at his antics with the resigned acceptance of an older brother with an irresponsible younger one who constantly needed to be watched.
Normally, I was happy enough to put up with his shit.
Just this once, though, I wanted to grab him by the back of the cut, haul him up, and toss him out into the hall.
I even considered calling some of the guys at the club to come get him. But the fact of the matter was, the moment was gone.
And, for fuck’s sake, the moment never should have happened in the first place.
The woman had just woken up from a nightmare so terrible that she’d struggled to separate it from reality for a long moment, a nightmare where I suspected she was being assaulted in some form or another by her ex.
The last fucking thing she needed at that moment was for me to take advantage of her vulnerability.
Sure, yes, she’d made the first move. But that was likely just in response to being offered some kindness after reliving some of her trauma.
I shouldn’t have closed the distance when she’d paused.
“Fuck,” I hissed, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
It had been a sleepless night, to say the least. And I’d been dealing with a raging hard-on for a fair chunk of it.
Abigail had tossed and turned as well for a long time. And I tried to convince myself it had nothing to do with the unmet need I’d stoked in her.
Eventually, even she managed to pass out.
And Dezi, well, he slept like the fucking dead. The bastard.
Someday in the future, I was going to find the exact right moment, and cockblock his ass in revenge.
Even if, logically, I knew him showing up when he did—before things got too out of hand—was probably the best possible thing to happen.
With a sigh, I quickly brushed my teeth then moved back into the room, finding Abigail slow-blinking out the window as she woke up.
“Too bright?” I asked, regretting opening the blinds so early. “I was opening them to torture Dezi when he gets up,” I told her, getting a smirk out of Abs as she looked down at him.