She understood that he was too stubborn to accept help, and too independent for his own good. “We were fine last night.”
“We were lucky last night.”
“I can disguise myself as a man.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Only a fool would believe you’re a man.”
“I’ll wear baggy clothes—”
“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” he said, reaching out to grasp her chin. His fingertips dug into her cheek. “Men don’t have faces like this.” She turned her head to the side, trying to break free. He moved his hands to her hips and hauled her against him. “Men don’t have bodies like this, either. They don’t have curves and soft skin and pretty little tits—”
She drew back her arm and slapped him. She didn’t have enough room to take a good swing, because he was holding her too close. Even so, her blow found its mark with swift impact. He released her abruptly, touching his jaw in surprise.
Maria had never hit anyone out of anger before, and she regretted it at once. She curled her stinging palm into a fist. “I’m sorry.”
“I deserved it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, chagrined. “Did I hurt you?”
He smiled at the question, as if it wasn’t possible for her to hurt him physically. “I’ll recover.”
Maria didn’t see the humor in the situation. He’d groped her and insulted her. She’d struck him. They’d both lost control. “You think it’s funny that I hit you? It feels good?”
“It didn’t feel good, no. Not compared to that hand job.”
Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest. She wasn’t familiar with the phrase hand job, but she took his meaning well enough. This was dirty talk, blunt and devastating.
“I like your hands on me, even when it hurts.” He stepped closer again, crowding her against the wall. “I’ll take whatever I can get. I want your nails in my back and your teeth on my skin. I want you sobbing underneath me, begging me to end this torment.”
Yes. She understood this too. The need to feel something, even if it was pain. The need to touch him, even in anger. She knew the frustration that made her want to yell at him and pummel her fists against his chest. Anything to take the edge off. She was right there with him at the breaking point. She had too much pent-up energy, too much passion. She needed release.
He covered her mouth with his and heat exploded between them. She parted her lips in a gasp, welcoming his rough kiss. He pressed her against the wall and devoured her. She clutched at his neck, ravenous. He smelled like sweat and dirt and train exhaust, but he tasted clean and hot.
She couldn’t get enough of him.
Their mouths met again and again. He wasn’t gentle, but neither was she. He didn’t want her sweet and passive. He wanted her wild and out of control, so that’s what she gave him. She sucked on his tongue and gripped his strong shoulders. She felt the muscles beneath his torn shirt, his vibrant heat, his beating heart. His erection swelled against her belly. An answering beat pulsed between her thighs.
Groaning, he filled his hands with her bottom and lifted her against him. She tilted her hips, moaning. She wanted to slide up and down along his length. She wanted to taste every inch of his skin.
He broke the kiss, breathing hard.
“Touch me,” she said.
“Christ,” he muttered, shoving her T-shirt up to her armpits. Her bra was a flimsy bit of cotton. He freed her nipples, which were embarrassingly large and puffy in contrast to her small breasts. She was the opposite of the girls in the men’s magazines. Slim, dark-haired, dusky-tipped, natural. Ian didn’t seem disappointed with her attributes. He looked at her with hungry eyes, moistening his lips.
She trembled as he cupped her tender flesh. He lowered his head to her breast, taking most of it in his mouth. He dragged his teeth over her skin and sucked her nipples into stiff brown peaks. She threaded her fingers through his hair, lost in sensation.
She knew she should tell him to stop. He was going too far, too fast. Anyone could come around the corner and find them locked in this embrace. She was already half naked. He might lift her against the wall and take her right here.
She might let him.
He unbuttoned her pants with a deft hand. She held her breath in anticipation as he flattened his palm against her belly. When he slid his fingertips into her panties, she smothered a sob. She was wet and swollen, aching for him.
“Fuck,” he said, as if he’d encountered a problem.
“What’s wrong?”
“If I don’t stop, I’m going to come in my pants.”
She was in the same boat, and too aroused to care. “Acábame,” she whispered, holding his hand in place.
His eyes darkened at her brazen request. He glanced around them, considering. This section of the cargo station wasn’t exactly private, but they were alone for now. His gaze burned into hers. “Right here, with my hand?”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
His fingertips rested against her, not moving. He brushed his lips over hers. Then he licked the corner of her mouth, teasing her with a light touch.
“Please,” she panted.
“Please what?”
She groaned, unable to articulate her desires.
He slid his fingertip through her wetness, up and down in slow strokes. “This?”
She widened her stance a little, rocking her hips in invitation. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and slipped his finger inside her. She gasped at the intrusion, though it felt good. Her body accepted him greedily, with slick moisture and snug heat. He alternated between stroking her in slow circles and dipping his finger inside her. She stood on tiptoe and clung to his shoulders, trembling. Her heart thundered in her chest as she strained toward release.
Almost there.