?Lying.
Did I mention I was shoeless? He was well on his way to a felony.
Being tired didn’t make you limp or have amnesia. And it also appeared that patience wasn’t just a virtue. It was a full-time job that I wasn’t even getting paid for. “Try. Again.”
The corners of his mouth turned down, but then realization dawned. “Hiro.”
Much better.Pleased, I leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. He seemed to need a reward. “Good boy.”
His sharp inhale, followed by the way he turned his face, was an insult. I knew he wanted these lips. If Kieran hadn’t been such a cockblock before, I already would’ve had a taste.
Grasping his chin, I tugged his face around. It was cooland dark here, a quiet pocket in a chaotic city that felt like a private escape. But as I studied his wary gaze, I realized the true escape wasn’t this space. It was him.
My hand slid up to cradle his jaw, the wariness in his eyes transforming into something softer, something akin to muted longing.
“Don’t,” he warned, the word dragging over his vocal cords like he had to force it out. Like the only hope to stop this was me. But I was far past stopping, waist deep in danger and too far gone to care.
There wasn’t a single day in two years when I didn’t wallow in his memory. I ran, hoping time would erase us, only to realize you can’t elude the inevitable. I gave the only warning anyone had ever gotten from me, one opportunity to get away.
“Run,” I whispered, nearly tasting him in the restless air between us.
“I already did,” he murmured, eyes fixed on my lowering mouth.
Proof he knew we were inevitable too.
Our lips fused with dizzying force, the kiss deepening fast—yet not fast enough—because the more of him I tasted, the greedier I became. His soft lips yielded to my hasty invasion, allowing my tongue to conquer his, twisting and exploring until our chests strained for air. We broke apart, our foreheads bumping. The space between us was nothing but shared, unsteady breaths. A low moan rolled between us, from whom I wasn’t sure, and then we were kissing again, messy and consuming, his fingers knotted deep in my hair. A bold sense of urgency rushed through me, and I lifted so his legscould wrap around me and our chests smashed together.
The hint of maple coating his tongue was a sweet surprise in my hostile world, a momentary timeout from reality. And as his lips valiantly tried to keep up with mine, I realized something. Rett wasn’t just a reminder of why I did what I did.
He was the reason.
The startling revelation popped our lips apart, and I lifted my head, staring through eyes that were blinded by a tornado of emotion whirling beneath my skin, so overwhelming I couldn’t focus on a single thought.
“Hiro,” he whimpered, squirming in my tight hold. His body arched, head falling back to reveal the pale column of his neck. A neck darkened by someone else’s fingerprints.
Possessive energy consumed me, turning everything else into collateral damage. Cradling the back of his head, I pushed him higher and dipped my head. The second my nose nudged his throat, his breathing hitched. I held myself there, teasing, until his limbs started quivering. My breathing was heavy, and my heart beat loud in my ears. The moment my lips finally feathered across the bruises, I braced for rejection.
None came.
Instead of forcing me back, he tugged me closer. My lips parted, marking him with the heat of my mouth.
He let out a whine.
I skimmed my tongue over the battered skin.
“Please,” he whispered.
“Please, what?”
“Make them yours.”
Restraint gave way to something stronger, and I lunged forward with an untamed growl, latching on to his skin and sucking like a man starved. I wasn’t gentle and I wasn’t quiet, gripping the back of his head and holding it exactly where I wanted while possessively claiming—no,overriding—every mark someone else had left.
I was feral and not worried that it would hurt because, in that moment, I wanted him to hurt for me the way I had for him. I needed him to look in the mirror later and know to whom he belonged.
Mine.
Lips wet, I pulled back enough to survey the claim, practically eye-fucking the necklace of bruises while oozing with satisfaction.
