"Yeah, seriously. My life is my writing, Jasmine. It's been that way for most of the last decade." I hold her gaze. "Until you. You're changing everything. I should resent that. I never wanted it to change. I was content with my life exactly the way it was." I brush strands of hair away from her face. "But every goddamn time you disappear from my life, whether it's five minutes or two days, it doesn't feel the same anymore. You can't just burst into the middle of it, change everything all around, make me realize that I'm wild for you, and then expect me to pretend there isn't a giant goddamn hole in the middle of my life where you're supposed to be."
"River," she says, her voice soft and halting, as if she desperately wants to believe me but is afraid to let herself take that leap.
"The first week we met, I barely wrote a word. I was too busy thinking about you. I'm still too busy thinking about you," I say. "I don't give a shit if there are a million other women in the world. There's only one who calls me an insufferable ass and still makes my dick this hard. There's only one who calls me annoyingly disagreeable and still makes me feel like a fucking king every time she smiles at me."
"You are annoyingly disagreeable," she grumbles without heat.
"Yeah, I am. And I'm an insufferable ass, too. But I'm not your dad. I'm not a cheating prick. I'm just a motherfucker who writes, baby. If you give me a chance, maybe you'll find out that the man behind those books you love is actually just a prick who can't focus if his house isn't clean, or who writes at a diner, or spends too much time in his home gym, or fights dirty when he really wants something. But I'm not going to break your heart, Jasmine. I'm not going to hurt you."
She stares at me for so long, I'm convinced she's going to break my fucking heart. I don't even think she realizes just how muchpower she holds here. But it's always been hers. I've always been the one in danger with her because she'll be just fine without me. She's strong, confident, and more fierce than anything. But I've been gone for her since she plopped her gorgeous ass down across from me at the diner, stole my fry, and told me that stalking is how you show affection in her world. There is no recovery for this kind of addiction. It's lifelong, unalterable.
I know because this is what I write, this bone-deep sense of belonging that never fades. I feel it with her, in a way I've never felt it with anything before. This right here, at her side, is where I belong. It's where I'm meant to be.
"I'll make you a deal," she finally says. "If you go to dinner with me tonight, I'll give you a chance."
I stare at her for one heartbeat. Two.
And then she's in my arms, squealing as everything on the bench beside her goes tumbling to the floor. But I don't even fucking care. I kiss her like it's the first and last time, just to taste her on my lips and feel her air moving in my lungs.
She flings her arms around my neck, her fingers sinking into my hair. I know damn well that the little minx knows what she's doing to me when she pulls the strands and bites my lip at the same time. I mean, there's no way she doesn't know, right?
I growl, spinning to pin her up against the wall.
"What are you doing?" she breathes, grinning at me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. Yeah, she knows exactly what she's doing.
"Fucking you against this wall," I growl. "Any objections?"
"You remember how I screamed for you at your place, right?"
"Remember?" I bite her lip, sliding my hand up her bare thigh. "I've been fucking my hand raw to the memory of that perfect sound."
"Well, I'd prefer if my coworkers and everyone on the block didn't also hear it, River."
"Then I suggest you don't scream this time." I slip my hand into her panties, groaning when I feel how wet she already is for me. "Because it's been two days, Jasmine. You aren't leaving this stockroom until you've come all over my cock again. Besides, Olive gave us permission." I pause. "After she launched an all-out assault on me. I don't think smacking me in the head withAgememnonis what my Greek lit professor meant when she suggested getting it through my thick skull."
Jasmine's body shakes with laughter before she moans, her head tipped back against the wall. I watch her face, my thumb circling her clit.
Her whole body goes taut, her thighs squeezing around my hand as I work her over.
She tries to muffle her moans, but they come out anyway, high and desperate. Fuck. I want her so far gone she forgets her own name. I keep my eyes on her, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face.
"That's it," I rasp, curling two fingers inside her. "Let go for me, princess."
She bites her lip hard enough to leave a mark, but that only lasts a second before her head thunks back against the wall, her hands scrabbling at my shoulders like she needs to hold on.
I fuck her with my fingers until she's shaking, her breath coming in ragged little gasps.
"River," she whimpers, her voice so soft and needy it nearly breaks me. "I'm—"
"Do it," I growl, thrusting up against her clit with my thumb just as I crook my fingers inside her.
She comes with a strangled cry, her body convulsing around my hand, so hot and wet I want to taste her right now, in the middle of this disaster of a back room. Instead, I keep her pinned to the wall, my fingers buried in her while she rides it out, her nails digging little half-moons into my biceps.
When she finally sags against me, limp and panting, I slide my fingers out and bring them to my mouth, licking them clean. Her eyes go wide, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn't look away.
"Take my cock out," I tell her.
She immediately reaches for my belt with trembling hands, unbuckles it, then pops the button on my jeans. The second she has my zipper down, my cock springs free.
