He lifts his lip in a half snarl, anger deepening his eyes. “Don’t lie.”
I press against him, my hands trailing up his chest to his broad shoulders, questioning silently what I’m doing. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Another lie,” he spits.
The air between us crackles, charged with an electric tension as our bodies seem to dance around each other. His grip on mychin tightens, and my lips part as his eyes slide to my mouth and then return to mine.
“But if you can pretend, so can I,” he mutters, and his lips capture mine in a fierce, desperate kiss.
It burns me from the inside out—a wildfire consuming every inch of me. This is a bad idea. And yet, I’m the queen of bad ideas, because even as reason screams at me, desire wins.
I melt against him, surrendering to everything he silently demands—with his mouth, his tongue, his fingers threading through my hair. I give him all of me, and in that moment, the dance floor and the swirling bodies around us fade into nothingness. Every little detail—the time we spent apart, the distance between us—vanishes. All that exists now is our connection.
He groans, deepening the kiss as he pulls me even closer, as if he could draw me inside him and merge our very souls. His fingers trail down to my hips, digging in as he effortlessly lifts me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I feel the undeniable evidence of his need, his hard length pressing insistently against me.
Another purr vibrates from deep within me, and he answers with a rumbling growl that vibrates with raw desire. Our kiss breaks for a moment, and he looks at me with a face etched in pure hunger. Without missing a beat, he moves—carrying me away from the pulsating chaos of the dance floor. He guides us down a darkened hallway toward the bathrooms, before pushing into the unisex room and locking the door behind us.
He drops my legs and slowly walks me backward to the sink, his every movement exuding that predatory, alpha magnetism that sets my heart racing. Excitement, desire, lust, and a lingering spark of anger mixes inside me as he grips my chin once more, tilting my face upward to meet his dark, intense gaze.
Am I really doing this?
Fuck—I think I am.
When he captures my lips again, a low whimper escapes my throat, as if all the times I’ve fantasized about this moment are finally converging into one explosive reality. I’ve dreamed of moments like this—maybe not in a bathroom at a club, but of stumbling into one of them and surrendering to the irresistible pull between us. Of it still being there.
And it is. There is no denying it.
“I’m going to fuck you.”
I shiver. Slick gathers between my legs. And I’m going to let him. My heart pounds inside of my chest. My breaths coming in short pants.
His fingers go to my jeans when I don’t protest, releasing the button and zipper in record time. His pupils are blown wide as his eyes trace the skin he reveals. Then he is undoing his own jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself.
He lifts me onto the smooth counter. Then he drops one of my heels to the floor and tugs my leg out of my jeans. The hyper-focus he has on me as he spreads my legs and steps between them makes my stomach dip. When he rubs the tip of his head through my slick, I’m sure I’m going to black out with pleasure.
Then he thrusts in, one smooth press of his hips, and my head falls back, bumping the mirror. Oh shit.
“Look at me,” he demands, the command of a bark in his words.
I move my gaze to his, and he cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
My body grips him with each stroke, as if it doesn’t want to let him go, but he only teases me with his knot. Never fully locking into me. Making me ride the edge of orgasm as he chases his.
“You’re so tight. You want my knot, don’t you, Ash? Tell me.”
“God yes!” My head drops back again as I arch into him, attempting to lock us together on my own.
“Alpha,” he grunts. “Call me Alpha.”
“Alpha,” I repeat on a moan.
“Beg.”
“Please, I need your knot.”
He chuckles low, his pace never stopping, as he nips at my neck. “No. I don’t give my knot to cheaters. I’ve seen the magazine covers of you two.”
He’s wrong, but I don’t even have the time to open my mouth and say that.
