For a moment, he held my gaze, as if he was searching my face for some sort of deception. I didn’t flinch. I knew what he saw in me—himself, reflected right back.
He stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb, the sweetness of the gesture in stark contrast to the rawness of all the things he’d said he wanted to do with me. But somehow, that simple touch made me melt even more.
He was everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I needed. Hell, he was more than I could have imagined. And in that moment, I knew I would do anything to keep him there with me.
“I want you,” I repeated. “I want this.”
“This?” he repeated, then leaned in to brush a trail of feather-soft kisses down my neck, then along my collarbone. His touch was lighter than air, and yet it pounded through me like the steady, rhythmic thrum of a bass drum building to a crescendo.
“Or maybe this?” He ran his hands down my arms, then twined our fingers together. He pressed his body tight against me as his mouth sought mine, his tongue demanding entrance as he thrust our arms out to the side as if readying to take flight. He deepened the kiss, exploring with his tongue, delighting me with his teeth, nibbling on my lips. And as he did, he slowly maneuvered our arms up until mine were completely above my head and he gently released his fingers from mine. “Or maybe this is what you want,” he said, manipulating my hands so that I was clutching my own wrist above my head.
“Evan, I—”
“No.” He brushed his lips over my ear, his voice so low I had to strain to hear him. “No talking. No moving. The arms stay up, the hands together. Nod if you understand me.”
I licked my lips.
“Nod,” he repeated.
I nodded, so lost in him that if he’d told me to strip naked and spread my legs right then, I think I would have done it, and eagerly. I was that much in thrall to him.
Yeah, he was dangerous all right—but damn me, it was that danger that I craved.
“Good girl,” he said, then brushed the gentlest of kisses over my lips. “And I think we’ve found what you want,” he added, closing his hands over mine.
I drew in a shuddering breath, because he was right. He had me trapped—maybe not by reality, but by the promise of my own obedience. The result was the same. I was desperately, hopelessly turned on.
“You like this,” he said. “You’re open to me—open to the world. Down and dirty with me in an alley where anything could happen.” Once again, he leaned in to whisper. Once again, I was struck by how well he knew me. “This excites you, doesn’t it? Not knowing where we’re going next. What’s going to happen. Who might turn that corner. Not knowing if I’m going to kiss you or fuck you.” He paused, and his next words made me moan aloud. “I’ll give you a hint, Angie. I’m going to do both.”
I hadn’t noticed when he’d removed one of his hands from where he gripped mine, but I noticed now that he was trailing his fingers up my thigh, slowly lifting the hem of my skirt as his hand rose higher and higher.
I whimpered a little, but the hand on mine held fast, and he shook his head. One tiny motion. No.
I closed my eyes and surrendered to both the unspoken command and to my own overpowering need to revel in the exhilaration of this moment. He had me pinned against the wall, held in place by his large hand cupped around my wrists. His body was so close to mine I could feel his heat. And his hand was rising higher and higher toward my now-soaked panties, my throbbing clit, and my cunt that was slick with arousal.
Every scrap of reason inside me was screaming that I needed to open my eyes and tell him no. That I needed to walk away. That this was a bad idea and that I knew better and hadn’t I told myself over and over that it was a bad idea to let myself go wild? That nothing good ever came of it.
That I would regret it in the morning.