Miranda was quiet, and Devin shook his head. “Listen, it’s not your fault. This is the way the world is, sweetheart. You and I are just stuck with it.”
“No, I want to be one of those that change it. That’s the whole reason Unity exists. We’re trying to overcome all this, and I know some people have latched on to the old ways of thinking, but they won’t be in charge forever—”
He stepped into her space, crowding her with his height and broader build. She swallowed, but met his stare with her own resolution.
“Your ideals are admirable, but they won’t matter in the end. You and I are not suited,” he said each word slowly, nearly whispering.
“I never said we were suited,” she said, matching his rigid stare. He was too close to her, but once he had started toward her, he hadn’t been able to stop.
“Then why are you here, Miranda?” His hand reached out, feathering down her arm.
“To make sure you were okay,” she said, eyes fluttering till they nearly closed. Her lips parted with shallow breaths.
“Liar.”
Her jaw tensed. Steel consumed the wistful daze in her eyes. She teetered on her feet, but did not retreat. He chanced moving that much closer, fighting to keep his hands at his side. His fingers played at the fabric of her dress, biding their time, waiting for him to finally give in.
“I was also…curious,” she said, then she chewed on her lip as if uncertain. “You’re likely the only chance I’ll have of…well, kissing. Was it bad? Or was I…” she licked her lips, and he watched the motion like a tiger stalking prey, “Good at it? Did I do it right?” She looked away, starting to fidget.
He would have laughed. He wanted to. Nothing was more ludicrous than Miranda Wilde standing in front of him like a siren calling to a man on the last fringes of control and thinking she was lacking.
“It is taking considerable strength not to devour you where you stand,” he managed, “And you doubt your capacity to please?”
Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t think…but I didn’t know what I was doing—”
He lifted her chin with his hand, now so close they were pressed together, her breath warm on his lips. “Mira, you are going to have to say no or I’m afraid I’m not going to stop.”
He felt her shiver. He felt it like a surge of longing straight to his cock.
The green of her eyes softened again, and she shook her head. “Please, don’t stop.”
And that simple request was his undoing.
Miranda was molten as Devin kissed her, knees nearly buckling except that his arms had wrapped around her, holding her upright.
Her whole body screamedyes.
But it wasn’t enough—she wanted him closer. Once again, she was not herself. Some other Miranda was wrapping her arms around his shoulders, air forced through her nose so she didn’t suffocate as she enjoyed each delicious glide of his mouth on hers. A soft gasp eased up her throat. In the study, she’d almost believed he’d hated kissing her, the way he seemed to merely react. Now he was kissing her fervently, like she was air and he was drowning.
He backed her toward the couch and before her legs bent in submission, Miranda maneuvered so that Devin fell onto it instead. He stared up at her for a breathless minute, eyes wide.
She had not intended to be rough as she crawled into his lap, squeezing either side of his hips with her thighs to hold him in place, the way she might with an enemy she wanted to subdue. Her fingers twisted in his collar, like she was pinning him in a fight instead of tasting the lingering bitterness of alcohol in his mouth. She was fueled by instinct, but she’d never let desire guide her before. A part of her still wondered if she was doing this right. Her body was singing, thrumming sensations bothsweet and exhilarating. A blooming, consuming hunger that she was desperate to feed. But did that mean he felt the same?
Whatever his opinion on the matter, he uttered no complaints. Unable to move anything else, Devin’s hands began to explore her body over her clothes, trailing fire where his fingers pressed or squeezed, like he knew exactly where she wanted to feel pressure. When her breath caught in her throat, his fingers lingered.
He only stopped the evocative search when his hands reached the swell of her breasts. He waited, teasing at the seam of fabric in her dress but never crossing. It was like he was tentative, unsure how far she was willing to go. Which, honestly, she had not expected.
Truly, she hadn’t knownwhatto expect, but Devin respectfully awaiting her permission before fondling her breasts as she pinned him to the couch and his tongue explored her mouth was not it.
She let her teeth scrape at his lips as she pulled back.
“Do it,” she commanded.
His palm covered her through the dress and she shook her head.
“No,” she whispered, and her fingers turned to claws on the back of his neck. “I know you’re holding back. Don’t.”
“Fuck, Miranda,” he hissed, but he obeyed and worked down her dress, exposing her breasts to the cold air of his apartment. She moaned into the darkness as his fingers danced over her taut nipples. A combination of the sensation and the thought of him touching her created a heady mix of tantalization and desire, made her desperate for something she didn’t understand. Her hips started to move, craving a friction she couldn’t satisfy while still. She stopped once she felt the hard length of him through her undergarments.
