“With the truth.”
He fists my hair and yanks me toward him, our lips a hair’s breadth from each other. Having him this close brings me to life like I’ve been electrocuted. “Itisthe truth, you psychotic asshole. I don’t miss it, I don’twantit, because it can’t compare to what you make me feel and what you give me. It never will, and it’s not worth losing you over. Nothing is.”
God, that’s exactly what I needed to hear. I wet my lips, my tongue flicking over his at the same time. “I don’t give you anything.”
“You give meeverything. More than I deserve.” He kisses me then, the first time he’s ever initiated the contact himself. He doesn’t ask permission, and his tongue demands entrance, slipping into my mouth. We’ve never kissed like this. Not this forcefully, with this kind of intent or thisdeep.
Holy fuck, it’s incredible. With a moan, I pull him even closer, the taste of him invading my every sense. Why haven’t we done this before? It’s so much better than the cursory kisses I’ve demanded for years. They pale in comparison to the visceral way he’s making me respond.
It’s rough, and messy, with anger poured into it like gasoline on a flame.
The satisfaction of being this close to him makes the lack of lust pooling in my stomach an insignificant detail. It’s so much more than that. It’s a direct line to his fuckingsoul,and I plan to devour all of it. Fisting the sides of his jacket, I pull him even closer, trying to crawl inside him.
The kiss softens, and he tilts his head, changing the angle. His grip on my hair eases, and it shifts gear into something less manic but no less powerful. His mouth opens wide on every slide and stroke of his tongue, pulling whimpered sounds from deep in my chest. He’s never been this forceful, and fucking hell: I’ll be demanding it from now on. He doesn’t get to give me this and then take it away.
His hand lands on my soft dick, and he jolts away as if burned. He retreats from me, leaving me panting and aching for him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, pulling away from me. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
His lips, slick with my spit, all red and puffy, are begging for me to take another taste. Just one more. Right. As if once will ever be enough.
When I lick my own lips, I can taste him. “For what?” He better not be apologising for that kiss, because I’ll punch him.
“You’re not—” He gestures down. “This isn’t—it’s not—” He cuts off and squeezes his eyes shut, dropping back against his seat. His chest heaves, and I want to lick the red flush over his cheeks, see if it’s as warm as it looks. “Fuck,” he breathes out, like he’s in pain.
“You didn’t like it.” A different kind of ache sets itself up in my chest, one a hell of a lot less pleasant. A dull thud of pain at the idea that he didn’t like it.
He lets out a startled laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Does it sound like I’m kidding?
He sobers and turns his head, still resting against the back of his seat. “I’m hard as a rock, Spence. That’s what you do to me. You make me want to do so many goddamn depraved things to you. Do you understand that? There’s nothing friendly about the thoughts I have. I want to strip you and make you scream for me.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. We’ve never explicitly talked about this before. Not like this. “I know.” Of course I know. I provoke it because it makes me feel good. Because knowing hewantsme means that I have all the pieces of him. And I’m greedy enough to thrive on it.
“And you—” Another short, sharp laugh. “You’re not even hard.”
“I—” I don’t know what to say to that. Is that a deal breaker? That kiss was worlds better than any sex I’ve ever had. Any soft woman I’ve ever touched. It’s the most pleasurable experience I’ve ever had. Even the chaste ones are because they’re aconnection to him that’s mine alone. Why does it matter if it made me hard or not?
He shoves his door open wide. “C’mon, we need to go inside and get this done so we can go back to HQ.”
Chapter eight
Kendrick
I can’t look atSpencer. Not if I want to get through this without putting my hands on him again. My loss of control in the car is going to cost me dearly. The taste of him lingers in my mouth, and the sounds of his pleasure are burned in my brain. I’ll be dreaming about it. Think about it every time I jerk off to him. All of my senses have had him now, and they’ll haunt me for eternity.
Abigail, Maverick’s younger sister, greets us first. The black-and-white skull dress she’s wearing seems like it’s in poor taste, given the location, but her bright smile and blinding purple hair overpowers it enough I’m sure barely anyone notices her attire.
“We’ve been expecting you, boys,” she says, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss Spencer’s cheek. He curls an arm around her back and returns the gesture.
Even knowing they’re all basically siblings doesn’t stop my hands from clenching into fists. After that kiss, everything’s tooclose to the surface to test me like this. The urge to drag him away from her consumes me, and I even take a step toward them. It’s bad enough when men touch him, but women? No fucking way. I bet if she tried,shecould make his dick hard. Could pull something from him that I don’t have any hope of finding.
Spencer must sense something is off because he moves away from her and crowds me, his hand sliding into my back pocket, fingers adding pressure to the curve of my ass. “Settle,” he murmurs quietly against my neck.
Settle, he says. Like he hasn’t completely fucked me up with that kiss. My own goddamn fault for starting it. I shouldn’t have touched him, not like that.
“That kind of day, huh?” Abigail tilts her head with a knowing smile and lifts her hands. “No touching. Hands where you can see them.”
