Mia shrugs, her eyes still fixed on her hand against my chest. “Not much really. Sort of avoided a lot of questions, was a smug little shit and then blamed me for a lot of it.”
“Sounds like Archie.” I carefully put my hands on the counter beside her, not close enough to touch, but the movement is enough to close some distance between us, enough that I can feel the heat from her skin and the warmth of her breath tickling my neck.
“Yes, it does.” Her fingers flex on my chest, and she sucks in a small breath. “He… he accused me of sleeping with Jordan.”
“Jordan?” A laugh rumbles through me.
“Mhmm.” Her eyes move up to mine. “And you.”
The distance between us feels too great for the way she’s looking at me.
“Me?”
She nods. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Completely. What a thought.”
“I mean, you and me? What would even make him think that?”
A heartbeat passes, then two. Her eyes bore into mine, and it feels like there’s an aching chasm between us now, too far to bear. I should say no. This is my cue to step back and be a gentleman, to do the honourable thing, to do the right fucking thing and leave before we do something that can’t be undone.
But that’s no longer an option.
Mia’s hand curls into a fist, gripping my shirt and pulling me to her, and then her mouth slams into mine. Or maybe it’s my arms around her waist that pulled her close. Or maybe we’re just a fucking storm that’s been brewing all these weeks while we found our way to someone we never should have been looking for.
Kissing her makes sense in a way that nothing else ever has in my life.
She’s hungry, unrelenting, her kiss filled with heat. Our tongues stroke against each other, and my hands move from her waist to underneath her dress, pushing it up her thighs so I can run my fingers along her soft skin.
You can still turn back. You can still pull away.
I groan into her mouth as my hands find her bare arse. “Fuck,” I gasp. “You need to tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “No.”
“Mia, this is wrong.” My mouth trails from her lips, along her jawline, down her neck. “We can’t do this.”
“We can hate ourselves for it later.” She doesn’t even sound sorry, not a bit. Her head tips back to let my lips roam along the soft skin of her throat, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My words and my actions certainly aren’t fucking matching up.
“Mia.” I murmur her name against her skin, pushing the strap of her dress from her shoulder to reveal more, more of her, and she slides her arms out of the straps so the dress settles around her waist.
I have to take a second at the sight, to try to calm the whirring in my brain. She leans back on her hands, her chest heaving slightly, and she presses her hitched leg to my side.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I run my hands up her stomach, gently cupping her breasts. They’re small but perfect, dwarfed by my ridiculously huge hands. I caress her peachy nipples with my thumbs, and her head drops back.
She moans softly, scrambling at the hem of her dress with her right hand, yanking it up so she can bare her cunt to me.
Her slit is glistening, slick with arousal, adorned with a thin strip of damp curls. The sight is enough to bring me to my knees, and she lets out a small gasp of surprise when I press my lips to her inner thigh.
“Dominic.” She almost sounds a little panicked.
I shake my head, not even knowing what I’m refusing, and trail my lips closer to her cunt. “I need to taste you.”
“But-” She cuts off with a sharpmmmsound as I close my mouth over her clit, pressing the flat of my tongue to it. Her fingernails rake through my hair, her thighs shaking ever so gently. “D-Dom, I-”
I curl my hands around her thighs and press her to my face, looking up to meet her eyes. Maybe I will hate myself for this later, like she said. Maybe I’ll rage and regret and be furious that I let myself fall.
