I burst into laughter. “Like a tiger.”
“Do you think we’ll survive this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, pulling him closer so I can brush my lips against his. “Or we’ll die trying.”
Our mouths crash together. It’s hot and needy, almost too much for me to handle.
I pull back and look at him and the bruise forming on his jaw, at the swollen mess of his knuckles. “I told you to protect this face,” I tell him.
“You shoulda seen the other guy,” he says.
I take his hand and lead him toward the bedroom, and he follows without a word.
His room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows.
I turn to face him and start unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His breathing grows uneven as I press my lips against hisRUINEDtattoo.
“Do you think I can kiss this away?” I ask, and he runs his fingers through my hair.
“No,” he whispers.
“Can I try?”
He doesn’t answer, just watches me with those blue-green eyes as I trace my mouth along the letters—R-U-I-N-E-D. The moment I saw it, I knew exactly what it meant. I kiss down his chest, across his stomach, dropping to my knees in front of him. His hand tightens in my hair when I undo his belt and pull him free.
“Kendall.”
“Let me.”
I take him in my mouth, and he groans, his head falling back. I work him slowly, learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his fingers curl against my scalp. He’s always the one in control, always the one calling the shots, and I want him to know what it feels like to be taken care of.
“Fuck.” His voice is strained. “You have to stop, or this is going to be over before it starts.”
I pull back and look up at him. “So?”
He hauls me to my feet and kisses me hard, walking me backward until my legs hit the bed. I fall onto the mattress, and he follows, covering my body with his. His mouth moves down my neck, across my collarbone, and I arch into him whenhe pulls my shirt over my head and closes his lips around my nipple.
He works his way down my body, kissing my ribs, my stomach. He lingers at the curve of my hip. When he settles between my thighs, I stop breathing. His mouth finds my clit, and I cry out, my hands fisting the sheets. He takes his time, licking and sucking until I’m shaking, until I’m begging, until I shatter against his tongue with his name on my lips.
He kisses his way back up my body while I’m still trembling. I pull him closer and taste myself on his mouth, and it makes me want him even more.
“I need you,” he says.
I pull him down to me. “Show me how much.”
He slides inside me, and we both exhale. I wrap my arms around his back and hold on as he moves slowly. This isn’t like before. There’s no desperation, just us breathing together and choosing each other.
He shifts, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He does it again and again until everything narrows.
“Look at me,” he says.
I open my eyes to find his, and then I lose it.
I fall apart with my eyes locked on his, and he follows me. Patterson whispers my name against my throat, and I almost start to cry because this feels like he’s letting me all the way in.
“I really hate it when you’re mad at me,” I tell him. “But, damn, the makeup sex? Worth it.”
He chuckles. “Guess that means you’re going to keep pissing me off?”
