I cup him over the zipper, firm enough to make his pupils flare, light enough that it’s more promise than relief.
A low growl rumbles in his throat.
“You’re always so hard for me,” I murmur, stroking the length of him once, slow, dragging my thumb along the length. His hips jerk forward. “Poor thing.”
His eyes flash, dark, dangerous, the look that makes my body tight and my clit throb. But this afternoon, I’m the one holding the reins.
I keep the pressure steady, rubbing up and down, feeling him pulse and thicken even more under my hand. His breathing changes, and a muscle twitches in his cheek.
Rising to my tiptoes, I lean in, lips brushing the edge of his mouth. He exhales a long breath against my cheek.
“You want my hand inside these pants so badly, don’t you?” I squeeze just enough to make him hiss. “Want me to wrap my fingers around this hard dick and stroke it until you’re coming for me?”
One of his hands lands on my hip, gripping hard. “You know where this is going, princess. Don’t you?”
My thighs clench and my nipples are tight against my thin top. But my clothes will stay on. So will his.
I kiss along the corner of his jaw, then move to his mouthin a slow, filthy, tongue-sliding kiss that lets him taste how much I want this too.
He kisses me back, and it takes every shred of self-restraint to hold back. I bite his lower lip, sharp enough to make him grunt, then pull back just far enough that he has to chase.
My hand never stops stroking, feather-light, then firmer, so he’s almost panting. The dominant man who usually has me whimpering is unraveling under my fingertips… and the power rush is intoxicating.
I’d surrender to him all over again. Drop to my knees and worship him as he wants me to. However, I’m not that easy. And this isn’t me falling for a man. Or wanting to be his.
I let my lips hover over his. “You’re close to losing it… aren’t you?”
“Touch me the right way. Now,” he rasps.
I smile against his mouth. “Begging for it?”
His other hand braces on the fridge behind me when I drag my nails down his zipper, hook one fingertip under the metal tab—and then I stop, duck low and move out from under his arm.
“Tierney,” he says, all throaty and hoarse.
His eyes widen, pupils blown, chest heaving. For a second, he looks as if he might actually lunge at me.
I tilt my head, voice soft but steel-edged. “I’m not a dial-a-date, baby.”
He freezes.
“You don’t get to snap your fingers and have me on my knees whenever it suits you.”
I blow him a mocking littlekiss, turn on my heel and saunter toward the hallway, leaving him standing in the middle of the kitchen… aching and stunned.
Behind me, I hear him exhale slowly, and goosebumps race over my skin.
I glance back to find him watching me, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face.
“Anyone ever tell you not to play with matches, princess?” he says. “Enjoy the head start.”
20
BRONX
A smirk stretches across my lips.
The little hellcat actually thinks she can walk away from me like that?
