I raise a brow, staring back at him. “We do what I know you have in mind, you will pop your stitches.”
His grin widens. “So what if I do, Ricky will fix me up again.”
I let out a heavy sigh. There is no way in hell I’m letting that happen. I prop up on my elbow, trying to get some physical space between us. “Not going to happen. Let me get you some breakfast instead. Do you need painkillers as well?”
“Only if they will fix my wounded heart, from your constant rejection.”
“Oh, my God. You’re so intense.” With a dramatic eye roll, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up to standing. I need to move this conversation into the kitchen, or we will end up staying in bed all day because I don’t know how much longer I can resist him when he’s so damn forward.
“I know what I want, Daisy. You’re going to be mine.” The way he stares back at me with so much intensity makes my heart sprint. He shoves himself up to sitting, not looking like he’s in pain, but I don’t see how that could be true. He couldn’t have healed in one day of bed rest. While I watch him, he stands and tosses his legs over the edge of the bed. He’s only in his black, low-slung boxer briefs, his ink and hard muscles on full display. The tattoo on his back is the same as the skull emblem on his leather jacket he wears. I can’t help but stare. On his side is a bandage, and there is another wrapped around his arm, but other than that, you would have no idea he was even injured. His long hair falls over his eyes, and he scrubs it back with a flick of his hand. Damn, he is gorgeous. Like out-of-this-world heavenly, and I want torun my tongue over every inch of him. “Deny it all you want, but I see how badly you want me.”
“You’re Sloane’s brother,” I mutter, trying to find a reasonable explanation of why we can’t do what he wants us to. What I want us to.
“Doesn’t mean anything.” He closes the gap between us, pinning me to the wall behind with his body.
I stare up at him. “She’s been good to me, I don’t what her to think I’m taking advantage of her kindness.”
“You wanted me before you knew I was her brother.” His hand moves into my hair, running his fingers through the strands that must be a knotty mess right about now. But he doesn’t seem to care, his eyes raking over me as if I’m made of gleaming gold, a flawless jewel he desperately needs to acquire.
“I’m married,” I try in one last-ditch attempt.
His eyes darken to scary. “We both know your motherfucker husband has met his timely demise, and you’re not married anymore.”
Fuck. What does he know? “What about Asher and Jagger?”
He tilts his head, something flashing in his eyes, curiosity maybe. “What about them?” he asks, and I feel like he’s challenging me to something, what I don’t know.
I moisten my lips, unable to help it when he keeps running his eyes over my face, his gaze settling on my lips. “Cruz,” I warn him, not sure what else to do. The tension between us just hit a new peak, and he’s about to screw my brains out.
“Yes, little darlin’, what can Cruz do for you?”
I shake my head, a dizzying wave washing over me, but it’s too late to stop the inevitable. His lips are on mine, and all I can taste is him, all I can smell is his intoxicating scent, all I can feel is his touch everywhere, devouring me with bruising force of a kiss so damnpassionate I know I will feel it long after we pull apart. The firm press of his fingers digging into my waist is welcome as my knees buckle, his sturdy arms and the way he presses me into the wall behind stopping me from crumbling.
When he pulls back, I’m a panting mess. Not just panting but trembling all over, and it’s not because I didn’t want him to kiss me, it’s because I don’t ever want him to stop.
“I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks, your lips belong on mine, and I won’t stop chasing you until you admit to the world you belong with me.”
My hand settles on his chest, and the hammering of his heart tells me all I need to know. The earth just shifted off its axis for him as well. I don’t respond, I can’t admit anything. Instead, I pop up on my toes and press my lips to his.
He chuckles into my mouth, knowing he has me.
Then I’m in his arms, and he carries me back to his bed, tossing me down. “Cruz, your stitches,” I cry.
“I don’t give a fuck about my stitches. Get those cute-as-fuck pajamas off, I need to feast on you.”
Feast on me. Oh, dear God. With shaking hands, I try to pull my shirt over my head, but I’m clearly not fast enough for him. He leans over me, shoving my hands out of the way, and has it off in no time and his hands on my breasts, cupping them roughly as he dips his head to suck on my nipple. Then he moves down my body, nipping, kissing, sucking his way down to where my sleep shorts are. He whips them off in one quick move. His hands curling into the sides of my panties, he tears the fabric to shreds. “Cruz. I needed those.”
His eyes gleam with trouble. “I’ll get you more, or better yet, you can stop wearing panties altogether. That would work out better for me.”
I throw him a look that says not going to happen, but he has already moved on, shoving my legs apart as he dives headfirst into my pussy. He tastes every part of me in the most delicious way, that has me gripping the sheets and moaning incoherent sounds already.
He pushes a couple of thick fingers inside me. It’s all it takes for me to fall apart. My pussy clenches around his fingers, and I cum in a rush as he sucks on my clit.
“See, the only breakfast I need is you and your delicious cunt.” He licks his lips, not wasting a drop.
I shiver and shake, my whole body alight, his dirty words and mouth doing things to me they shouldn’t.
He stands and removes his boxer briefs, tossing them over the other side of the room. His lips twist up at the sides as he looks down at me.
