“I don’t.”
“No?” My hand glides up her arm, catching on that tease of satin, running up her neck and tracing her jaw.
Noa closes her eyes and gives in to my exploration, canting her head. “You’re terrible.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“We can’t do this. I don’t want this.”
“Strong words,” I say, my thumb snagging on her plump lower lip. “If only you meant them.”
She tries to jerk out of my grip, but I hold on to her chin, preventing the escape. “Don’t close off on me, Lavender. Say what you want to say. You have me.”
Noa tries to snort. It’s slightly difficult when I cup her jaw so her eyes handle most of the disdain. “You don’t want to hear how I feel about you.”
I move my hand to the back of her head, using Noa’s hair to angle her the way I want her while using my other arm to press her against me, holding her flush. “If you refuse to say it, then I’ll just move onto other ways to prove you want me.”
“You’re a selfish, self-entitled prick,” Noa hisses, yet she allows her head to be pulled back. Her neck to be exposed.
My lips peel from my teeth. “I’m aware. If I’m honest, you know me better than anyone I’ve ever met.” I shut down theflash of triumph in her eyes by adding, “Just like I know that deep down, you’re the same sweet, impressionable girl who has always had trouble getting this selfish prick out of her system no matter how hard she tries.”
“And so you use that to your advantage? You’re doing this just so you can put your mark on me before Chef Toussaint can. I’m not a part of your corporate takedowns?—”
“If you think I want you because another man’s sniffing around,” I growl, surrounding her on all sides, “think again. I’ve wanted you since the day your turned up in class at school in over-sized jeans and that black halter top that made me want to cum in my pants the minute I laid eyes on you.”
She sucks in air. “That was a long time ago.”
“I’m the same man, according do you, and I selfishly want to throw you on this counter and spread your legs and make you scream. I want to know if you nipples taste the same—sweet with some tang. I want to know if you still shave or if you’ve gone bare. I want this Noa, the woman who has given upeverythingto take care of my mother, the woman who politely submits to an arrogant chef and saves her smart mouth for me, this woman who”—I angle my head closer to her lips, short breaths escaping—“keeps a lot of pain buried inside her and thinks I can’t see it.”
Her chest heaves against mine.
“You know me so well, Lavender. I know you as completely. And I fucking need you.”
She opens her mouth for more words, more wasted breath, maybe more denials. I don’t let her. Can’t. Not when she needs me, too.
I pull the pot off the burner, then seal my lips on hers.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Noa
He tastes like how I feel when I try to satisfy a craving.
Hungry. Sweetly addicted. Wanting more.
I shove that thought from my brain. My back presses against the edge of the countertop and my hands grapple for some leverage, an edge, a hold, an anchor to keep me from floating through the ceiling and into the night sky.
Stone’s mouth has other ideas. His lips are hot, suctioned on mine, stealing all oxygen. He takes and takes until I dart my tongue forward and graze against him. Sensing my exploration, he plunders, tilting my head back, angling it for the best kind of kiss, and finally, I take, too.
My fingers dig into his back. He came into the kitchen in his boxers, all cut lines and crinkled expression, like I’m just as confusing to him as he is to me.
I want to feel all of him, to see if he’s different, and he is. His muscles are hills and valleys on his back, unlike the lanky, rebellious bad-boy I had in high school. Stone’s kiss is the same, possessive and all-consuming, demanding my attention.
With that mouth and the way his body molds against mine, creating heat like flint creates fire, all my hurt drifts away. My worries and my pain. What’s left is exactly the emotion he promised:Need.
Stone’s hands glide down my body, supplicant at first, until he finds my buttons. He doesn’t waste time unbuttoning each one. Stone breaks away enough to rip open my shirt, buttons scattering. I gasp, the heat from my core flowing up my neck and into my cheeks as I wait for him to comment.
Stone’s eyes are dark, dilated, and focused on my chest. His brow creates half-moons where the brightness of his blue eyes should be, and my exhales turn shallow as this beast studies his prey before he consumes me.
