“You’re incredibly nosy, you know that? You get one question and one answer if you promise you’ll tell me what the fuck you remembered that made you panic this bad.”
“Will your answer be honest?”
He grinds his teeth, a perfect storm brewing in his eyes. He’s pissed off that I don’t trust him... I think he’s about to lash out but instead of unleashing another tirade, he cups my face and shuts my mouth with a demanding kiss.
It’s not cute or soft. It’s punishing. Raw. Tongues dance, teeth scrape, and his short, heavy breaths make me want to rip his clothes off right here.
I know what he’s doing. He’s diverting my focus... I feel the intent behind the kiss, behind his firm touch, but it doesn’t stop my stomach fluttering or my mind blanking.
I give in. I giveback, lacing my fingers around his neck.
He bites my bottom lip hard enough to teeter on the tightrope between pleasure and pain, holding still for three heartbeats, before he sucks it into his mouth, easing away.
“Angry sex must be so good,” I whisper, a little dazed.
I thought I had a taste of that in the bathroom when he pinned me against the wall and squeezed my neck, but this kiss makes it crystal clear I’ve seen nothing yet.
“I know what you’re doing,” I add, tracing my bottom lip with my thumb. “It won’t work. I want answers.”
“Oneanswer,” he grits out. “Keep up this attitude and you’ll find out how fucking good angry sex is.” He digs his fingers into my hip, hauling me aside to open the door. “Get in.”
41
Hailey
“Can we talk now?” I ask, grabbing the longest fries in the box.
Nash insisted we eat since that was the whole reason we went out in the first place.
He crumples the paper burger wrapper, tossing it into the bag between my legs, and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“I haven’t eaten as much junk food in my entire life as I have this week with you.” He grabs his Coke, washing down the on-the-go dinner while steering with the other hand.
Eventhisgets me hot. My body’s constantly ready for him, my pussy wet, my mind dirty. It’s uncomfortable, probably should be embarrassing, but the awe coloring his face whenever he slips inside me annihilates any shame.
I can’t get enough. Everything Nash does affects me way too strongly: the tone of his voice, his posture, how quick and perceptive he is, his tattoos, the way he grips the steering wheel in that sexy, careless manner.
“Is it growing on you?” I ask, diverting my horny thoughts away from the need to rub my thighs together.
It’s not been four hours since we last had sex, but I’m not far off climbing over the middle console to straddle him.
“No.”
Liar, liar. He devoured that burger like it was made by the head chef at a five-star Michelin restaurant.
“Your question?” he prompts, turning the radio down. “Think carefully, Hailey. You only get one.”
I should’ve negotiated better...
He knew what he was doing when he kissed me. He has me wrapped around his finger. I’m too agreeable. So obedient. Melting at his touch like a starstruck superfan.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
As much as he takes, he gives back tenfold. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a man who’d confidently admit he’s owned, but he did when he tattooed my blood onto his chest.
He hasn’t said it with words, but the permanent gesture on his skin tells me he feels exactly what I do.
While we ate, I turned over every question I want to ask, and I could practically hear his vague answers:
