Atlas laughs as he gestures to himself with his large, calloused hands, but despite how he looks, I don’t see violence in him. The memory of those same hands picking me from that dirty closet floor and carrying me outside is a fond one. I associate those huge, strong hands with safety and comfort. The same things I felt while he was rubbing the tension from my head and neck…
Instinctively, I know those hands could bring me pleasure, could soothe this ache between my legs. I’ve never had another man touch me, but I’m no stranger to my own body. I can clearly imagine the ecstasy if those hands touched my breasts, pinched my nipples, and rubbed against the aching spot between my legs.
My breath grows shallow the longer I build scenarios in my head, and it’s not until Atlas lays a hand on my cheek that I realize that I zoned out. One look at those heated green eyes, and I know that I’m an open book. There’s no hiding what’s going on in my head right now.
“I…I’m not scared of you,” I pant, flustered by all these emotions. By the way, my body heats up when he steps even closer. For a long minute, we stand silently watching each other. I can feel my breath backing up in my lungs with every passing second, my pulse racing. Then he leans down, so close there’sonly an inch between my lips and his, the promise of a kiss heavy in the air.
I’ve never been kissed before, but it’s not rocket science. I’m sure I can figure out how to navigate if he…only if he…
Atlas lowers his mouth down on mine, swallowing the needy whine that climbs up my throat.
Oh God.
God.
A storm of heat gathers fiercely in the pits of my stomach when his mouth moves over mine. His mouth is soft, contrasting his rugged features, and his kiss is gentle…seeking. His lips nibble mine, and before I know it, I’m opening up for him. I whimper when his tongue slides over mine, his hand sliding to my nape and holding me firm as he fans the fire burning through my body with his lips.
I drown in him—his lips and that intoxicating scent that’s unique to him. My sex clenches needily when he brings his free hand between us, sliding it over my aching breasts and fondling them through my nightgown. I push into his hand, whimpering into the kiss at the heady sensation.
He seems to want this as much as I do—desperately—if the growl of pleasure escaping his throat is anything to go by. Which makes it confusing when he suddenly pulls back, his breath just as harsh as mine.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, dropping his forehead against mine. The firm grip he has on my nape stops me from pushing up for another kiss. Christ, I want to feel his mouth on mine again. I want him…more of him. “You need sleep. Rest.”
“No, I don’t,” I counter needily. I don’t want to sleep. I want him…his hands touching me and bringing me pleasure.
“You do,” he says firmly enough to cut off any protests. “Why don’t I take you back to your room?”
Hmm… Maybe I can convince him to stay a while when we get to the room, so I don’t protest when he lifts me in his arms and carries me out of the kitchen. We head to the apartment Chelsea and Scarlett set up for me, and Atlas puts me down so I can let us in. He follows me inside straight to my bedroom and even climbs into bed with me after kicking off his shoes.
I try to be patient as I wait.
Wait for him to kiss me and take things further. But Atlas simply wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. “Sleep,” he orders, brushing his lips over my temple. I mumble some protests against his chest, but feel my eyes grow heavier by the second.
“I don’t want to sleep.”I want him!
Despite my protests, I find myself lulled to sleep by his warm body and soothing scent.
“I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart,” he rasps, kissing my forehead, and it’s the last thing I feel before I slide into the quiet abyss of a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Four
Atlas
The key scrapes in the lock, and the sound echoes through the silent apartment as I let myself in. It’s early, way too early, and the dim light of the hallway barely penetrates the gloom. I ease the door shut behind me, trying to be as quiet as possible, but I know I’ve failed when a low growl rumbles from the depths of the sofa and I am met by a pair of emerald eyes narrowed in disapproval.
“Sorry, buddy,” I tell my furry roommate as I walk inside. Rusty is none too pleased with me when I go to the windows and draw the curtains. He glares, those green eyes judging me, as if I don’t already feel like shit for what I nearly did last night.
So close.
I’d been so close to shoving Marie against the kitchen island and taking everything she was offering me, but then I tasted the innocence on her lips, felt her inexperience as she eagerly surrendered to my touch. I wanted to take and then take more. To tear down my sweatpants and yank up her nightgown before fucking her so hard, we’d wake everyone in the building.
I wanted more…still do.
With a sigh, I shuffle toward the kitchen and flip the light switch, flooding the room with a harsh, unwelcome glow. The idea is to make some coffee and hope the caffeine shocks my system into thinking reasonably. Christ, everything in me wants to head back to that room and wake her with kisses, lick my way down her body, and suck those sexy nipples between my lips.
I would have her begging for my cock in seconds.
Fuck! Just the thought alone is enough to send my semi hardening to steel, but I ignore it, reaching for the coffee grounds. I grab the box just as Rusty joins me in the kitchen, loudly demanding an apology for my absence last night and the rude way in which I woke him this morning.
