Page 142 of Hard Pass

My breath catches. He thinks I’m mad at him? The thought hits and something in me shatters.

I close the three feet between us without saying a word, pushing him backward until his ass hits the back of the couch that separates the kitchen and the family room, and give him an answer. My fists curl into the front of his polo shirt, gripping tight, and yanking him down to me.

And then my mouth is on his. The kiss isn’t soft. It isn’t careful. It’s everything I’ve been holding in for the past few days poured into one reckless, desperate collision.

Anger.

Relief.

Fear.

Gratitude I don’t know how to voice.

Confusion that’s been clawing at me for weeks since I first saw him standing in that conference room.

Once the shock clears, he’s all in. His hands come up, one fisting in my hair, the other gripping my hip, pulling me closer like he’s afraid I might disappear. Like he needs this outlet as much as I do.

Good. Because I need it. I need him. I need to feel something that isn’t unraveling at the seams. I need to feel something that makes sense. And this—this heat, this pull, this undeniable connection—is the only thing that does.

I connect my tongue with his, needing so much more than just this kiss can give me. My hands roam, up his biceps, across his shoulders, to the nape of his neck.

I kiss him harder. Deeper. Like this alone can erase the noise and the headlines and the damage. Like this kiss can give him back even a fraction of what he gave me with his speech.

My teeth catch his bottom lip, and I tug as a groan falls from his lips.

“Dub—”

“No talking,” I whisper against his lips as my mouth laces open-mouthed kisses down his jawline as I untuck his shirt while doing so and pull the damn thing over his head to give me better access to kiss every dent and sculpted incredibleness of his chest and abs.

His breath hitches as I slide my hands in his waistband and then make quick work of shoving his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

My chest rises and falls too fast, my pulse a frantic rhythm under my skin as I realize this is mine. All of this gorgeous man is mine, and I intend to explore and tease and enjoy every damn inch of him.

Women feel in words. We dissect them. Turn them over. Analyze every meaning until there’s nothing left but overthinking and doubt.

Men—my gaze flicks up to his as I flick my tongue over his nipple—men act. They show. They do.

And tonight? He did that for me.

Now it’s my turn.

“Am I angry with you?” I ask between kisses that lead to his happy trail. I chuckle against his skin as I meet his eyes while slowly dropping to my knees. “No.” I trace the tip of his cock with my tongue. “Far from it.”

My lips close around his tip and I tease it with slow, deliberate licks.

His groan turns rougher, lower, vibrating through his chest as his hand grips the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white, and head falling back. The sight of him like this, of knowing I can do this to him, turns me on just as much as his cock does.

“Fucking hell, Dublin.”

The sound of my name on his lips is intoxicating. Urges me on. Makes me want to make him lose control.

And so that’s what I set out to do. I tease and taunt him. Using my tongue. My hands. My lips. And it’s only when he’s panting, when his hand reaches for the back of my head to tangle in my hair, when his hips are bucking against me, begging me to take him all the way in my mouth . . . I do.

In one quick movement, I take him all the way to the back of my throat and hold him there as long as I can before hollowing my cheeks out as I slide him back out.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, fingers tightening in my hair as I keep going and he gently begins fucking my mouth.

With my hands splayed against his thighs, I glance up at him and meet his eyes. They’re half closed and drugged with a mixture of desire and hunger. His jaw’s clenched and the tendons in his neck are pulled tight, chest rising hard with every ragged breath while he watches me. It’s like he can’t decide whether he wants to lose control or hold on to it by a thread.