Bossy(6)

Shit.

I’m going to regret this, but probably not tonight.

“Let’s go.”





Claire


The cab ride is a total blur. I’m fumbling through my purse for my keys in the hall outside my apartment when he grabs me in his strong hands and presses my back right up against the wall. We haven’t even made it in the front door.

Covering my mouth with his, he’s so close that the rigid line of his cock presses against my stomach. I can feel everything, like his jeans are barely there. I try to push him away, but only for a second. God, he’s a good kisser.

I close my eyes and let it happen.

It’s not until his hand slips in underneath the hem of my top, sliding skin against skin along my side, that I remember where we are. There are a lot of apartments on this hallway, and someone could come out any second. I push harder this time, and he lets up, if only for a moment. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Someone’s going to see us.” I dropped my purse when he kissed me, so I pick it up and rummage through it. Where the heck are my keys?

“So what?” He laughs softly, a rumble in his throat, while his fingers slide softly and teasingly up and down my bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You ashamed to be seen with me?”

“What? No. Not really. No! But I’ve got to live with these people and Dave in 4C is already a little creepy.” Finally, I find the key and turn my back to him so I can fumble at the lock. God, my hands are shaking. I look up to find him eyeing Dave’s door and grab his arm before he can go pound his chest at someone again. “Down boy, you’re here to ruin me for all other men, not defend my honor. Remember?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say ruin exactly.” He steps right up behind me, nuzzling into my neck, leaving soft kisses and sharp nibbles on the sensitive skin. Prickling me with his rough stubble. I stop turning the key halfway, distracted. His hands slide from my hips and up to cup me, my breasts filling his palms. “Destroy, ravage, devastate,” he mumbles.

“Less talk, more ravage.” It’s with a lot of effort that I twist the key the final quarter turn to make the door unlock. We tumble in, following it. With a kick, he closes it behind us. The click of the latch sounds so final. I pray I haven’t just made a huge mistake.

At the sound of the door, he tugs roughly at my shirt, pulling it up over my head. I take a deep breath, then raise my arms to help him. He throws it aside before clasping my breasts again. His talented fingers find my nipples through the thin fabric of my bra and roll them roughly. God, it feels so good. I moan, pressing my body back towards him.

“Where’s the bed?” His voice is insistent, needy. He wants this as badly as I do, and I love the naked desire in his tone.

I don’t even have words, but I lead him in the right direction, his touch following me the whole way. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that I forgot to turn the light off before going out tonight, and switch it off.

He laughs and flips it back on. “No way. Lights on. I don’t wanna miss a thing.”

A soft click, and my bra goes slack, released by his expert touch. The next time he cups me, it’s hot flesh against flesh. His fingers are callused and rough, and his touch is eager and possessive.

He pushes me onto the bed, then rolls me over onto my back. I love how he can handle me like I don’t weigh a thing. I shouldn’t be surprised, the way his muscles bulge under his clothes, but I am. Michael was never like this, so forceful and raw. He couldn’t be even if he wanted to.

Forget Michael. I’m here with... Shit, I still don’t know his name. It doesn’t matter. He might not be Mr. Right, but he’s definitely Mr. Right Freaking Now.

His deep blue eyes are stormy with lust, and as he stands over me, his hungry gaze makes me feel wanted. Desired. Any instinct I have to cover myself is torn away by his intensity.

Crossing his arms over his torso, he grabs his shirt and peels it off his body. Oh my God. The tattoos are all over. Writhing like they’re alive as he moves, they cover his arms and chest, clinging to his muscles, caressing the V that points right into his pants.

Rainbow hued dragons and inky black abstract designs entwine in a way that blends them together in an uneasy truce, creating a balance where it seems they should clash. Whoever did his tattoos is a master, because they’re gorgeous. I trace them with my fingers and watch his skin jump under my touch.

“Come here,” he commands as he puts his strong hands on my hips and pulls my ass right up to the edge of the bed.

I squeal in surprise. Talk about knowing what he wants. “Bossy, aren’t you?”