Yes.
“It was good you … stopped.” She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows over the valley spread out below them. “I mean, you have things you have to do, and I have things I have to do, and they aren’t things we need to do … together.”
Together. Fuck. She’d thought about them together. Although he was pretty damn sure she hadn’t thought of them together the way he had all fucking night long.
“Naiya.”
“I made breakfast. It’s on the stove.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “Happy revenge.”
No fucking way. “It’s not safe out there.”
“It’s not safe in here.”
“I couldn’t be gentle with you,” he said. “I’m a hard man, Naiya, and the shit I just went through just made me harder. I don’t have sex. I don’t make love. I fuck. And when I do, it’s hard and it’s rough, and that’s not what you need.”
“You don’t know me.” Her face tightened. “You don’t know what I need.”
The hell he didn’t. He could read the longing on her face; he could hear it in her voice. It was the same longing that had gripped him since he met her. The old Holt would have let her walk out the door because it’s what she wanted to do, and who was he to rock the boat? He didn’t know where that Holt had gone, but the man he was now was not letting her get away.
Without taking his gaze off her, he ripped the bag from her fingers and tossed it on the couch. Then he cupped her face between his hands and covered her mouth with his.
Ah God. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, her mouth as lush. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he touched her with his tongue. She tasted of honey and coffee, warm and sweet. He wanted her, wanted this woman with the broken soul, wanted to fix her, show her the beauty of trust and surrender, open her up and fill her with joy. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her bad.
“Holt.” She pulled back, her chest heaving. “I don’t want this. I just broke up with Maurice. We were together two years. It just feels … wrong.”
Didn’t feel wrong to him. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right. He slid an arm around her waist and crushed her against him, the way he’d seen Jagger and Cade do with their women, the way he’d seen Tank with Connie. Dominant. Controlling. And damn it felt good. Taking what he wanted. Being in charge.
And yet at the back of his mind, he was assessing her responses, the way she leaned into him, her soft sigh, the flutter of her lashes, and the little hints that told him she was on board and that he wasn’t stepping over the line. He had a strong feeling Viper had crossed that line, and if he caught her, he would cross it again.
Naiya leaned in, melted against him. Pleasure rippled through his body, and his cock hardened in an instant. He dipped his head, drank her down, delighting when she moaned and tangled her tongue with his.
She broke away again, her lips plump and swollen from his kiss. “I should go … I was just leaving…”
Deeper. Rougher. He slid one hand through her hair, tugged her head back, and held her still as he fed off her hidden desire. Her hands came up, pressed against his chest. Holt tensed, thinking she would push him away. Instead, her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer, straining upward as she kissed him back with a passion that belied her words. She wasn’t leaving. Not now.
Not ever.
Holt backed up to the couch, pulled her down with him until she straddled his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, the curve of her sex pressed tight against his aching shaft. One hand on her nape, holding her to him, the other around her waist, he plundered her mouth, brutalizing her lips as his need spilled out in a deep groan. His cock strained painfully against his fly, and his fingers tightened against her ass, her jeans rough against his fingers as he rocked his hips, grinding against her pussy.
“Oh God, Holt. You’re so hard,” she breathed. “So rough. I like it. I want more. Give me more.”
His control began to slip, his kisses became deeper, harder, his hands on her body tighter, clutching. Rough. Wild. Good for the skanky bitches he met at the clubs, or the club whores who knew what he liked and were happy to give it. Not good for a woman whom he was beginning to suspect didn’t know what the hell kind of box she’d just opened.
Fuck me.
“Darlin’,” he gritted his teeth, released his grip on her body. “Last chance. Unless you want to take this further, you’d better get off my lap. It’s been a long fucking time…”
“Not as long as me.” She pulled away, her face flushed, lips pink and swollen. “Maurice and I were waiting.”