“Dead men.”
She hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. Then she slowly traced the line of my forearms with her gaze. “Didn’t seem to work on you. You’re alive and well,” she said.
Rosalie stood from the hood. Her next step was deliberate. She landed merely an inch away from me, her chest brushing against mine. I wanted to back off. I tried desperately to hold onto my last bit of control.
“Perhaps I should try again.”
I glared at her. She wanted to kiss me again. It was as if she had to work herself through it each time. She couldn’t believe she found a man like me attractive. I was everything she hated.
Too dangerous.
Too mean.
Toogrumpy.
But the woman couldn’t resist, could she?
“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” I murmured.
Her hand rested on my chest. “Right.I was going to drop you like a bad habit—I just forgot to.”
“Did you now? I’ll give you one last try. Take this chance seriously. I do not share.”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes held mine. Rosalie reached for my hand and pulled me closer to her. I couldn’t resist. I lifted her onto the hood of the car and pushed myself between her legs.
My mind screamed a warning. This was a bad idea. If I were to get caught with Rosalie like this, there was no doubt in my mind I’d get a bullet through my head. Like Ricky. Like Cillian.
The thought should’ve been enough to stop me, but it didn’t.
Instead it encouraged me.
I wanted something I couldn’t have, and all that did was make my dick hard.
God, I wanted to punish her for what she was doing to me.
The constant tests, the way she weaved through every thought—she was relentless. She’d burrowed herself into the corners of my mind, while I wanted to bury my face between her legs and do nothing but spend hours exploring the ways her body reacted to my touch.
“You don’t listen to me well,” I whispered against her cheek while my fingers dug into the skin of her exposed thighs.
A slow smile played on her lips out of the corner of my eye.
“No, I don’t,” she said carefully, right against my lips. I was so close to her I was stealing her breath.
I wanted to kiss her again. I’d led myself to believe I was strong enough to resist her, to stay true to my word, but Rosalie had proved me wrong.
She’d called me weak without bringing life to the words.
My hand trailed from her hip to her neck, leaving a track of car grime along her skin. I grabbed onto her jaw, forcing her attention onto me. My lips hovered above hers. It was the biggest tease of my life, and it burned in my stomach like acid. It made me angry in a strange way, knowing my lips weren’t allowed to touch hers. That felt like a crime considering how good it had felt to kiss her.
Then, with a deliberate breath, her lips crashed against mine.
God, I missed how soft they were. How sweet. I wondered if her pussy tasted the same.
I shouldn’t be thinking like that. In fact, I shouldn’t even be kissing her. What was I thinking? How did I always find myself in situations like this? And why couldn’t I seem to stop?
Instead of doing what I should’ve done—which was to step away and apologize for overstepping my boundaries—I started to kiss her neck, and that was one hell of a mistake. I was beginning to think maybe one hickey wouldn’t hurt.
She wrapped her fingers around my wrists, guiding them closer to her inner thigh. Much as I wanted to keep this going, I couldn’t.
