“I said move.”
He grabbed the knob again and jerked hard. She didn't weigh much and he was very strong, the door opened fairly easily, throwing her into his chest. But before he could manually move her out of his way, she pushed off him again, forcing the door shut. She moved herself so she was in front of the knob, blocking him from it.
“I've dealt with your bullshit for months!” she yelled at him. “You can at least deal with mine for one evening!”
“Bullshit I can handle!” he yelled back. “Jerking me around is something else.”
“I'm not jerking you around!”
“That's all you do. You were telling me to get out five minutes ago!”
“I changed my mind!”
“Well, so have I,” he snapped, grabbing the side of her hip and trying to shove her. She quickly grabbed onto the knob behind her and held tight, refusing to budge. “So you and Eden are welcome to each other.”
“See!? Jealous. Like a little girl. Little girl lose her favorite toy!?” Katya snapped in a snide voice.
“Don't overestimate your value, Tocci.”
“You're the one who put the price tag on me, Wulf.”
“You wanted me gone!” he yelled, slamming a flat palm against the door above her head. “So I'm trying to go!”
“I didn't want it like this!” she shrieked back at him.
“Fine. I'll make you move.”
His arm was around her waist, lightning fast, and he actually picked her up against him. She was jerked away from the door and with his free hand, he was already turning the knob. But she'd locked it behind her, so it uselessly spun back and forth for a second, buying her some time.
“I tried to say I'm sorry,” she grumbled, pushing against his hold. “Just listen to me!”
“Doesn't feel good, does it? When someone refuses to listen to you, and all you want to do is apologize?”
He dropped her and she almost fell on her butt. He started to undo the knob lock, so she did the only thing she could think of and she reached out, grabbing his cupcake smeared tie. She yanked on it, hard, causing him to stumble forward. He bumped into her and she stepped back into a pile of shoes.
Katya lost her footing and with a shriek, she fell to the side. She still had a hold of his tie, though, so Wulf went with her. Her back hit the wall and she slid sideways, taking coats down off their hooks. His arm was back around her, trying to stop her downward fall, but gravity had already grabbed a hold of him, too. They crashed into a side table, sending picture frames and knick knacks and a vase to the floor.
“I'm sorry,” she breathed quickly, still trying to get her feet back under her. “I'm really, really sorry.”
“Just stop moving,” he said, bracing one hand against the table top.
She held still and he hoisted her upright. The hallway was dark, though, like most of the apartment. The side of her head connected with a wall sconce, causing her to yelp in pain and the bulb to break inside the frosted glass. Wulf stopped moving and his hand went to her head.
“Are you okay?” he was quick to ask. She groaned and he felt around for the wound.
“No,” she chuckled. “I have a concussion.”
“Please,” he laughed as well, massaging the spot where the light had hit her. “Your skull is too thick for any serious damage.”
“Shut up, I'm injured. I could sue,” she joked, finally looking up at him. He was smiling down at her – a real smile – for what felt like the first time in a long time.
“Go ahead. My lawyers love a fight.”
“Shocker.”
They smiled at each other for a second longer, then it was like there was a crackle in the air. A snap of electricity. A blink of an eye, and suddenly he was diving into her. She gasped right before his tongue filled her mouth, then she groaned around it. She still had her hands wrapped around his tie, so while she kissed him back, she yanked the knot apart and threw the material to the ground.
He pulled her back away from the wall, crushing her to his chest. They stumbled across the hall, then they moved forward again, stepping haphazardly to the side. Her back connected with the side table again, but Wulf kept pressing into her. She wiggled around, standing on her toes and moving so she was sitting on the table.
She was on autopilot, she didn't even think about what was going on. All she knew was her blood was pumping in her ears and his skin was so hot and how long had it been since she felt like she was on fire? While he moved between her open thighs, she quickly worked at unbuttoning his shirt, yanking it free of his pants.
“Off, off, off,” he was breathing hard and pulling at her shirt, as well. She finally lifted her arms and her tank top went sailing over her head, landing on the ground somewhere behind him. Then he was kissing her again and she was scratching at his back while she shoved his shirt away from his shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor.
“Oh god,” she moaned, letting her head drop back when his lips moved to her neck, his teeth biting down hard.
Then his hands were on her ass, pulling her off the table. As soon as her feet hit the ground, he was shoving her backwards, forcing her down the hall. They rammed into her door jam and paused for a moment. His hands were pressing down on her skin, moving heavily over her body while she struggled with his undershirt.
“You wear too many layers,” she growled. He chuckled, then started pulling his t-shirt off. She leaned close, running her tongue up the center of his chest.
“Noted. I'll be naked next time we decide to fight,” he replied, his hands briefly slipping down the back of her jeans before sliding around to the front. He pulled the button open, then slid the zipper down before pushing at the material.
“I don't want to fight anymore,” she said, shifting her hips side to side, allowing the denim to fall at her feet.
“You love to fight,” he whispered back.
Then he was picking her up again and she went willingly, wrapping her legs around his waist.
It was dark in her room, just a lonely street lamp from outside casting a glow into the space. He stumbled over a purse that had been left on the floor, almost sending them both to the ground. But he managed to maintain his balance, tripping across the room. He didn't stop kissing her for a second, not even when they fell into her drafting table. He sat her on the edge of it, then kissed a trail down her chest.
“God, what are we doing?” she suddenly said, raking her hands through her crazy hair.
“Shh, you ruin things when you talk,” he replied, both his hands spanning her rib cage and gently pushing her so she was laying flat.
“But we're mad at each other,” she kept talking. “I'm mad at you. This is such a bad idea.”
“So angry,” he breathed, his breath hot against her stomach. “Can't even see straight. Not aware of what I'm doing even.”