Taking What's His(32)

He kissed her, right there in the hallway in a crowded bar. He shouldn’t start anything right now. He should hold her hand and bring her back to his place, while whispering sweet words to her. He should woo her. But instead, he wanted to make her come, with his name on her lips like some sort of fervent plea. He needed to.

Fuck the Tootsie Pop.

I want to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of Lydia.

The skirt she wore was ridiculously short—part of what had driven him crazy while she’d been on the dance floor—so he dropped to his knees in front of her and dragged it up. She gasped, her hands falling on his head. “What are you doing?”

“No one comes back here because it’s a staff hallway, and I locked it. I owe you for last night, when I left, and it’s time for me to pay.” With one finger, he pulled her panties to the side. They were soft and lacy. It made him wonder what color they were, because it was too dark for him to see. “Hold on tight, Lyd.”

She dug her hands into his hair, holding on tight as ordered.

Gently, he raised her leg and rested it over his shoulder. He could already smell her sweet scent. Feel her intoxicating heat. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue over her clit. She was better than anything he’d ever tasted before. Even more so than the water he’d chugged after being stuck in the one hundred and ten degree hell that they called a desert for eight hours.

She moaned, the noise mixing in with the loud music from the club. Her nails dug into his scalp, and she pressed against him, her hips moving restlessly. “Oh my God, Holt.”

He deepened the intimate kiss, moving his tongue in circles over her. He could feel her whole body getting tighter, more frantic, and he knew she was close.

Hell, he could taste it, too.

Her hips moved faster, so he thrust a finger inside of her, crooking it just right. She arched her back, one of those sexy as fuck moans coming out, and then she froze, her heel pressing into his back. Afterwards, she collapsed against the wall, her body going lax.

Standing up, he swiped his hand across his mouth, pulled her skirt back into place, and caught her hand. “Come home with me tonight?”

“As if you needed to ask?” she said, laughing lightly. “Yes. God, yes.”

He nodded once, even though she couldn’t see him, and led her back into the crazy madness of the bar. As they worked their way across the floor, he caught sight of Paul, the dick she’d been dancing with earlier. He watched her leave, looking like a deflated puppy, but she didn’t even glance Paul’s way.

She was too busy watching him.

Thank fucking God.

As they walked into the night, she followed him silently. He’d die to hear her thoughts, to know what she was feeling right now. “You okay?”

“Mm hm.” She smiled up at him. “I’m more than okay, because you just did amazing things with your mouth.”

A smartass reply came to mind, but he couldn’t get it out.

The words all jumbled in his head. He curled his hand into a fist. She’d said he’d done amazing things with his mouth. At least he could still get some things right. Since his mind had bailed on him, he remained silent.

A building pressure sprouted behind his forehead, making him wince. Shit, he was getting the headache a few days earlier than usual. And he’d already invited her home with him. If he tried to back out now, she’d think he was running. He wasn’t.

Maybe if he took the pills soon enough, he’d be okay. Maybe he’d be able to tuck her in to bed, and then suffer in silence while she slept.

“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Lydia said, still smiling. “Giving up something that good is sacrilegious.”

Guilt slammed into his chest. She thought it was a good thing he’d given in to his primal urges to claim her as his. She was wrong. She’d be much better off if he didn’t. Hell, he could barely form a coherent thought on the best of days. And she was about to see his fucking worst. He opened his truck door for her. “A-After you.”

“Okay.” She hesitated, resting a hand over his heart. It was as if she already knew how strong of a hold she had over him, and was taunting him by placing her hand over the one part of him that she hadn’t laid claim to yet. “But before I go with you, I need a promise.”

Fuck me. He gritted his teeth, his head aching even more than just moments before. He didn’t make promises to anyone. Not after the last one had led to him killing a good friend on a battlefield deep in the bowels of hell. “Tell me what you want.”

“When you decide that feeling that we aren’t finished yet is gone, just come to me. Be honest. Don’t run. Don’t hide behind your alleged shortcomings, and act as if you’re doing me a favor by running. If you want to be done, we’ll be done. But don’t run without saying a word.”