I laughed quietly. "Don't you know? I'm a little rotten on the inside, too."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were even darker than before. Hungry. "You deserve better."
"No," I said. "I deserve exactly what this is because I want it."
He groaned. "I won't win this argument, will I?"
"No."
He seemed to fight with himself on the inside for exactly three seconds before he grabbed my chin, tilting it up to kiss me again. This time it was slower. His tongue found mine, caressed it with reverence that felt like a prayer. A jolt went through my body.
He ran his hands down my back, under the hem of the shirt, found my waist, and yanked me forward. I could feel him, hard and alive, through his pants.
He bit my bottom lip. "If you want me to stop, now is the time."
"I don't."
He grabbed my ass and lifted me up. It was an instinct. Like some primal part of me knew to wrap my legs around his torso.
He carried me to the bedroom, stumbling over a chair on the way. He didn't bother with the lights. Lips still on mine, he set me down on the bed, then wrestled out of his jacket. He only stopped kissing me when he needed to remove his T-shirt.
The body underneath was all lean corded muscle and I pulled back a little to study it, to memorize the lines of him, the angel wings tattoo, and the shape of the burn scar. Even the new one from the stabbing incident that had already healed a great deal.
He caught me looking. "Does this scare you?" he rasped out, tilting his head forward to meet my gaze again.
"No," I said and reached out for his zipper. He stood at the edge of thebed, towering over me as I yanked his pants and his boxers down his thighs, freeing his erection.
My body responded immediately, betraying me completely. My nipples hardened and my pussy clenched at the sight of his cock. It was big and thick, and stood at attention, and I'd wondered if looking at it would make me change my mind, would make me not want to have him inside me.
It didn't.
I desired him with the kind of despair I'd never felt in my entire life. I wanted him to erase all the past, to cleanse me from these memories, to ruin me to the point where I fell apart so he could put me back together again.
The burn scar ended just below his hip bone, and I traced the edge of it with my index finger.
His muscles tensed.
I looked up.
We stared at each other.
"Do you understand what we're about to do?" he asked as he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself a couple of times. It sounded a little mechanical as if he was reading this off some invisible manual, but I understood why he asked.
"I'm an adult woman," I whispered and reached around to place both hands on his ass. Then I pulled him closer.
"You sure you want to do this?" His voice was tight.
"I'm very sure."
He nudged me back and I fell onto my elbows. He climbed onto the bed, sat on his haunches and kissed me again. I was wet, I realized. Everything between my legs was swollen and aching from the need and my panties were soaked.
When we came up for air, I placed my palms on his chest and dragged them across his skin.
He shuddered, ground his teeth, as if he was in physical pain, but let me map out every inch of him while watching me with those unsettling eyes. His hand wrapped around my waist, his other one curled around my shoulder and my skin sizzled from the contact even through the fabric of my T-shirt.
We kissed in between the exchange of touches until our lungs couldn't take the torture of being air-deprived anymore.
When he pulled back, his hand moved from my shoulder to my jaw, his thumb on my lower lip, pressing into it just a little. "We shouldn't be doing this," he said. It was so quiet, I thought I read his mind instead of hearing him say it. "I shouldn't be doing this to you."
