She looks away first, and I take the opportunity to adjust my dick. "The food's getting cold."
We eat in relative silence, but there's nothing silent about the way her eyes keep dropping to my mouth every time I take a bite. Nothing quiet about how my body reacts when she licks sauce from her thumb, her tongue darting out in a way that makes my jeans uncomfortably tight.
"You've got some..." I gesture to the corner of her mouth.
She swipes at it with her thumb, completely missing. "Did I get it?"
"No. Here." I reach across the table, brushing my thumb along the corner of her lips. The contact is like striking a match. Her pupils dilate, her breath catches, and something inside me snaps.
"Fuck this," I growl, standing so fast my chair crashes to the floor behind me.
"Kasen, what?—"
"A month, Pink. It’s been a fucking month of watching you walk around in my clothes and pretending I don't want to bend you over every goddamn surface in this house."
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't back down. "So, what are you going to do about it?"
I'm in front of her in two strides, gripping her under her thighs and dropping her onto the table. Her plate clatters to the floor, but neither of us give a fuck. "This.”
My mouth claims hers with a violence that she meets and matches. There’s a monster inside of me that won’t be satisfied until I consume her, and the taste of her on my tongue is only fueling it to takemore more more.
She’s right there with me with a monster of her own, her insanity the other half of mine as her teeth sink into my bottom lip and her tongue licks into my mouth.
This kiss is brutality and desperation. It’s starvation and satisfaction. It’s a craving that's been building since Vegas. Maybe before. More like since the first time she walked into the room with that pink hair and sharp mouth that cut me straight to my core.
And I never healed right.
Not until now.
She doesn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. Her fingers dig into my biceps hard enough to bruise as she yanks me closer, dragging me half onto the table with her. The force of it knocks a glass over, water spilling across the wood, soaking into her shirt—my shirt—but neither of us stops. Her tongue pushes into my mouth, like she’s trying to devour me.
I groan against her, the sound ripped from somewhere soul-deep as her teeth catch my bottom lip, biting just hard enough to feel it in my cock. Her hands are everywhere—ripping off my beanie, digging into my hair, reaching under my shirt until her nails dig into my ribs.
She’s feral and unhinged and I fuckinglove it.
It’s like she's been dying for this as long as I have and her eyes open while we’re kissing and we stare at each other.
She dares me with those stormy eyes to keep going.
She’s a hurricane I want to drown in.
A tsunami I want to destroy me.
Right now it's a goddamn battle to the death between my body and hers, my heart and hers, our souls and everything we are.
"Get up here," she demands, fingers hooking in my belt loops, yanking me forward until I almost fall on top of her. I have to catch myself so I don’t crush her belly, but then she’s on me again.
Her teeth sink into the underside of my jaw, her nails raking up my back, burning a path that travels straight to my dick.
Fuck, I'm so hard it hurts.
I want her.
Need her.
Would kill to be inside of her.
I grab her legs and yank them around my waist, forcing her onto her back, and she goes with a groan that's half-pain, half-pleasure, but she never lets go of me. I know she'll probably be sore in the morning, but I can't bring myself to care. Not now. Not when she's got her nails buried in my flesh, her tongue fucking into my mouth, her thighs squeezing around my waist like she's never letting me go.
