“In that way, I guess I’m no better than Lana.”
“You’re nothing like Lana.”
“You sure about that? Because it wasn’t just Trev...” Bile rises in my throat as I think about the lengths I went to in the hopes of hurting him.
“Not another fucking word, Mais.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care. I’ve slept with my fair share of women since you.”
His words sting, but they aren’t unexpected. Of course he did.
“But those women weren’t my friends.”
“Some of them might have been.” He shrugs, apology lining his face. “I don’t remember a few of them.”
“Well, it wasn’t Lyric or Char, and those are the only ones I care about,” I say matter-of-factly. “Not that any of this matters.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Because it’s not like we’re going to be together or something.” I snort out a laugh like it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.
“Says who?” He shifts closer, freezing me in place with that intense gaze of his.
“Mac...” My mouth opens and closes as I fight for the right words to say.
“Mais...” He reaches around me and grabs my arm. In one fluid motion, he pulls me up and over his lap, settling me on top of his thighs, my legs going to either side of him, my hands instinctively going to his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” My words are breathless as Macallan reaches for the bottom of my hoodie, tugging it over my head without a single ounce of resistance from me.
“Finishing what we started earlier.” He kisses the side of my neck.
“I don’t... I have no interest in being your fuck buddy.”
“My fuck buddy.” His laughter is warm against my throat. “No, Maisie, I think you’ll be much more than that.” He presses a kiss to the other side of my neck.
“You say that now...”
“When are you going to realize that I’m not playing to get my dick wet?” He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my gaze to his. “I’m playing for keeps.”
I can barely hear his words over the roar that fills my ears, the heavy beat of my heart racketing off my ribs like a bass pedal hitting a drum.Thump. Thump. Thump.The rhythm so fast it makes me feel lightheaded. Or maybe that’s because of the way he’s looking at me. Like he means every word. And God, do I want him to mean them...
My resolve slips as his lips touch my jaw, my chin, my cheek, the tip of my nose, before finally moving to my mouth. Only, instead of kissing me, they hover there, waiting for permission.
“Tell me you want me as badly as I want you. Tell me you want this.” His breath brushes across my face.
My chances of walking away unscathed are diminishingby the second, and yet, I can’t bring myself to pull away. To get up. To stop this before it can even start.
“I wantyou,” I finally say, feeling him smile against my mouth before his lips press to mine.
A gentle peck. Two.
Then, like two ends of a magnet, we slam together, our lips colliding with so much force our teeth clatter together. He kisses me hard and deep, and I revel in the feeling of it, drinking him in like a glass of water handed to me seconds before I die of dehydration.
His hands are everywhere. My back. My hips. My arms. My neck. Slipping below my shirt to palm my breasts, which hang heavy and aching between us.
“Now.” I pant against his mouth, breaking the kiss just long enough to tear my shirt over my head, leaving my torso completely exposed. “I want you now.” I shamelessly grind down on his thick erection that I can feel pressing firmly against the seam of his pants.
