“I don’t think your body got the memo.” He’s being pretentious and venomous, and it’s getting harder and harder not to get physical.
“Beats me why. I’m normally not into narcissistic dickheads.”
His glare becomes even darker, his pupils dilating drastically. “That’s the problem, right? You’re so into me, you want to fuck me so badly, you can’t even date Oliver.”
I take a step back as if he physically hurt me. It isn’t so much the brutality of his words or the harsh tone that gets me, but the accuracy of what he said. Yes, that’s precisely my problem.
How pathetic…
All the insults I want to throw at him are jammed in my throat, my mind running too fast to formulate sentences. I feel helpless, more than I ever have, betrayed by my tongue, which refuses to cooperate.
Desperate not to let him win, I shove his chest with my flattened hands, wanting to hurt him. He barely moves, and it only adds to my humiliation. Even angrier, I push again, harder, and the impact makes him take a step back this time. “Fuck you,” I utter along with the shove.
I do it once more, passing all my exasperation onto him, wanting to make him pay for the psychological torture he’s imposing on me.
Fuck him. Fuck Alexander Coleman and his perfect face. Fuck his arrogant attitude. Fuck his hypnotizing eyes. Fuck his ego.
Why does it have to be him? Of all the men out there, why him?
To my great dissatisfaction, I never get the chance to push him a fourth time as his hands swiftly catch my wrists. I try to get free, but his hold on me is as firm as iron. When I glare up at him, he has his stern mask on.
I want to hurt him, to slap the shit out of that handsome face, to yell at him, to bite, to kick…
But as he’s standing so close to me, his heat radiating across my front, his intensity making my insides melt, it becomes clear that hatred isn’t the only feeling making my blood run so hot. To my greatest despair, I also want to kiss him.
Even more than I want to hurt him.
And I hate him all the more for it. For wanting him more than I loathe him.
He has to stop invading my dreams, stop occupying my mind, stop ruining my chances at a happy relationship…
Maybe it’s time for me to stop blaming Lex for the things he makes me feel. This whole mess is my fault. I’m the fucking imbecile ruining her own life. I need to grow up and take responsibility for my own problems instead of making excuses.
This time, he lets go of me when I writhe my wrists. As alert as he might be at that moment, the way his eyes widen when I grab his face proves he isn’t expecting my next move. Hell, I’m not expecting it, either.
But here I am, pulling him down so I can bring my mouth to his.
Just like the first time, an intense wave crashes through my whole body. I barely have time to register the sensation before his hand circles my waist, while the other tangles in my hair on the back of my head. Two seconds into the kiss, we’re already getting greedy, clinging to each other with desperate need.
It feels so… right.
Our mouths impatiently open, craving more, and I let out a soft moan at the first brush of our tongues. The very candid reaction affects him, his hand on my hip clutching the flesh harshly. With my head tilted to the side, I take and grant, devouring as much as I’m being devoured.
Our moves are feverish, our eagerness rendering our attempts clumsy. I’m on my tiptoes, one arm hooked behind his neck, trying to anchor myself while he struggles to keep our balance, his hand on the back of my head to keep me exactly where he wants me. The hand at my hip travels to my ass, his fingers squeezing the soft mound impatiently, pulling me closer to him.
“Aah, yes…” I whimper in his mouth, the rigid shape of his desire for me digging into my lower stomach.
Somehow, I end up with my back against the door while he presses me harder onto it with a groan. I was never into tall guys, but something about his overbearing presence reaches something deep inside of me. His massive body dominates mine in every way, making some feminine part of me swoon.
His hand in my hair mirrors the other one, fondling and squeezing my ass, which sends maddening jolts into my intimacy. The space between my legs is throbbing, my insides clenching around emptiness, dying to be filled. I arch toward him, pressing my aching core on him, grinding my lower belly against his erection. Oh, how I long to have this part of him inside me.
He growls into our kiss, and it dawns on me that we’re reaching a point of no return. We’re about to fuck in his office. I know I should stop it but can’t bring myself to.
I need it to happen, even if he’s my boss, even if it might make everything even more complicated. This thing between us isn’t rational, and I’m done trying to contain it.
With my hands full of her ass, I lift Andrea up. Her legs part instantly and wrap around my waist as I press her onto me, right where I need her so fucking much it hurts. The thickness of our jeans isn’t even enough to contain the heat that seeps and transfers between our crotches.
I press her harder onto the door, letting her feel what she’s doing to me, and she moans into our kiss. There’s something primal in the desperate way we cling to one another. I need this woman like I’ve never needed anyone before. And if the way she kisses me is any indication, she feels the same.
