Eden finally pushes open the front door and enters the apartment. I’m close behind her.
Easy. Give her space. Don’t jump on her like some animal.
But Iaman animal.
Shit, if I didn’t already know that this woman drives me crazy, then the argument waging inside my head between my rational self and lust-crazed self does.
Inhaling a deep breath, I force myself to stop mid-stride. Try to scrabble together some of the much-lauded discipline I was known for while fighting. It costs me, though. When she turns around and studies me with that heavy-lidded gaze, the price is the air in my lungs. The restraint over the low, dark rumble in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, the husky note like a waving red flag in front of a bull. “Are you…” Her feet shift into third position, and her shoulders draw back. “Have you changed your mind about…about,” her voice drops to a whisper, “fucking me?”
Maybe it’s the underlying hint of insecurity in the question.
Maybe it’s the physical tells that betray her nerves.
Maybe it’s hearing “fuck” on her lips.
Doesn’t matter. Any of them—all of them—snap the threadbare ropes binding my control, and I’m across the room and on her in seconds.
Palming her face, I tilt her head back and crush my mouth to hers. It’s a replica of the kiss in my truck. Hunger edged in desperation. As often as my tongue dives between her lips, and as eagerly as she meets me, giving me back every stroke, every lick, every moan, it’s still not enough.
Goddamn. Will it ever be enough?
A foreboding wisp of unease curls in my chest, lingering before evaporating under the blaze of lust. No, I’m not thinking about tomorrow or even an hour from now. This moment is where I exist. All I have is this moment.
Impatient, I cup the back of her thighs and hoist her into the air. Her legs immediately lock around my waist, and I shift my hands to her ass, groaning as her flesh fills them. Unable to resist, I squeeze and mold, spreading her cheeks slightly apart through the thin material of her skirt.
She gasps, jerks her mouth from mine, and stares down at me, confusion and arousal meshing in her dark eyes. I can guess what she’s feeling. A slight stinging stretch of that tight ring of muscle. I want that tiny hole. Want to watch it stretch around my finger, then my cock. Imagining the constriction of that smooth-as-glass passage as I work her, open her up for me has my chest rising and falling quicker. My dick hardening to the point of pain. Seeking to ease some of it, I grind her down on me, rolling her over my length.
Her whimper and my grunt mate in the air, melding into one needy sound. One more. Just one more of those teasing strokes. I drag her over me again, using my grip to circle her skirt-covered flesh over me, bumping the head of my erection, and hauling a hiss from my throat. Yeah, her clothes and mine separate us, but fuck if I can’t feel the warmth of her sex, teasing me. Taunting me.
But now I can have her body. Have her.
Gritting my teeth, I stride down the short hall to the bedroom I left her alone in weeks ago. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I’m joining her on the bed I put together with my own hands.
Nudging open the door with my toe, I flick the switch on the wall then release my grip and ease her to the floor. For a moment, her arms tighten around my neck before sliding free, and she steps back, crossing them over her chest.
“Can you turn the lights—”
“No,” I interrupt her. “I want to see you.” Last night, all I’d had was the street lamp from outside Hakim’s house. Not enough to discover if freckles scattered other parts of her body or if the shadows had hidden anything else from me.
She glances down, to the side, at some point over my shoulder. Anywhere but me.
“What’s wrong, Eden?” An acidic burn sears the lining in my stomach as an insidious thought slides through my head, leaving a grimy trail that I can’t scrub free. Did she prefer the dark because she could pretend I was someone else? Or anyone else, other than her dead husband’s brother?
Or…Connor?
“I’m not Jenika. Or that girl in the bar. Or any of the women I’ve seen you with. The light kind of exposes that,” she murmurs, then releases a strained chuckle. “This is ridiculous. I’ve never had any issues with my body. I don’t know why…” She trails off, shaking her head.
I blink, understanding crashing into me. The hell. She couldn’t possibly have doubts about whether I’ll find her attractive. God, didn’t she know that to me, she was perfect?
No, how could she? Since meeting her, I’ve had to bury every emotion toward her except a false brotherly affection, and I’ve become accustomed to hiding. But damn, I haven’t been able to conceal my hunger or my dick around her lately. Still…
“You have that backward,” I say into the silence. Her gaze jerks from the wall behind me to my face. “None of those women are you.”
Her lips part, and she stares at me for several long seconds. A softness enters her eyes, and slowly, she lowers her arms. That signal of trust, of vulnerability, refuels the need inside me. The need to get my hands, mouth, dick on and in her.
“Take off your clothes,” I order, not bothering to tone down the harshness in the command. By now, she has to get who she’s invited into her bedroom, into her body. I’m not some gentleman or poet. I’m a rough, half-civilized fighter with zero pretty words.
