Not when every piece of me was screaming to pull her to me and show her what a real kiss should feel like.
Not any of that pecking bullshit.
No, I wanted her mouth on mine. Her tongue dancing with mine. I wanted to breathe in the air she was exhaling.
I wanted…
It was like she read my thoughts, because she pressed forward again, grabbing my face in both of her tiny hands, and kissed me. For real this time.
She was the aggressor at first, licking and sucking, sipping at my mouth with lots of tiny kisses in between caresses of our tongues.
Then my control snapped.
My hands went to the back of her head, holding her to me, as I deepened the kiss, showing her exactly what I wanted from her.
She moaned, her hips pressing down harder against my cock.
I twisted us so that she was underneath me, twisting my hips so that I could fall between her spread thighs, and deepened the kiss until we were both breathless.
Her fingers tightened, pulling the strands of my hair and bringing me back to reality.
I pulled away at the hint of pain, horror washing over me at what I was about to do.
She held on tight, her fingers in my hair not giving me an inch.
“No, Romeo,” she begged. “Come back.”
I stilled and stared into her eyes, every single ounce of morality warring in my body with the need to take her. To possess her. To make her mine.
“You deserve the world, baby.”
She looked deeply into my eyes before saying, “You’ve become my world, Meo.”
Her words set off a chain of events inside me. I’d been trying to rebuild those walls, to remind myself that she didn’t deserve the kind of crap that I was bringing to the table.
But she was battering those walls down just as fast as I could build them.
“There are things that I can’t tell you, Mable.”
“Are those things like you’re a rapist?”
I recoiled, the bite of pain as her hands stayed glued to my hair not enough to stop the horror. “Absolutely not.”
“Did you kill someone?”
I remained silent.
I might not say the words, but I wouldn’t out-and-out lie to her.
The guy that I’d beaten to within an inch of his life had died while I was in prison.
Not to mention I’d killed a few more while I was on the inside.
“Did this person deserve to be killed?”
I thought back to the man who’d stolen my freedom.
Had he deserved it?
