Bossy(36)

“Oh my God!” All that time I was admiring how his clothes stuck to him, it somehow didn’t occur to me that I was putting on as much of a show. I cross my arms over my chest and hiss at him, “You could’ve said something.”

“Sure I could’ve. But then I wouldn’t see your gorgeous tits anymore.”

There’s so much heat rushing to my face that I’m surprised the water doesn’t steam off. “See, this is why I don’t want to get in the car with you. Because you’re an asshole.”

“Oh, come on. You like it. At least a little bit.” He smirks. “You weren’t faking that kiss.”

God, just the memory of it makes me tingle. “Totally fake. Faker than Tofurkey on Thanksgiving. Couldn’t you tell?”

He laughs at that. “That bad, huh?” We’re walking past an old brick wall, and he suddenly grabs my upper arms and swings me around, pressing me up against it. “I’ll show you fake.”

Declan threads his fingers through my dripping hair and tugs, forcing me to look up at him. For a moment the rain spatters my face and then he’s there, his full lips pressing against mine while his free hand slides along my side.

Time stands still. I freeze against him, my hands flat on his chest, but not pushing. Not really. Not enough to stop him while he plunders my mouth.

I respond. I can’t help it. He presses against me, pinning me to the wall and warming me with his body from head to toe. I’m still pissed, but all that energy has to go somewhere, and right now it’s pouring into him through this desperate kiss.

Compared to this, our other kiss did feel fake. The burning passion I feel right now is something I haven’t felt in... well, in four months. Not since I almost let a near-stranger fuck me outside the door to my apartment. Our tongues dance, chasing each other around while we struggle to eliminate any space between our eager bodies.

My hands slide up to grip his hair and pull him to me. He groans into my mouth, and I can feel his cock growing against my stomach as his hand inches up my side until it strokes my breast. He cups me, his thumb flicking across my nipple, making me gasp into his mouth.

We’re out of control. I hook my leg around his thigh, and he grinds against my core until I know that if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to come right here on the street. My fingers clutch his hair, and I try weakly to tear him away, but it’s too little, too late.

Declan’s hand slips into the front of my dress and he kneads my breast, tugging on my nipple. His mouth breaks away from mine, and he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Come for me.”

My legs are shaking. I’d slide down the wall if he wasn’t holding me up.

I want it. I don’t want it.

And then his teeth close around my earlobe, his fingers twist the tight nub of my nipple, and he thrusts his hips, sliding the length of his erection right across my clit. I press my mouth against his shoulder, biting down to stop from crying out as my release washes over me.

Slowly I come to my senses. It takes a lot of effort to push him away, but he lets me go, watching me with an arched eyebrow and a cocky smirk. I take a step back, not trusting myself to stay close.

“We can’t keep doing this. It’s a mistake. Our parents are getting married in a couple of weeks. We work together at your dad’s office.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him, or myself, but saying it out loud helps me push back the reality of what just happened. “Jesus, I don’t even think I like you.”

He crosses his arms over his massive chest, his tattoos rippling. “You like what I can do to you. Isn’t that enough?” With a lunge he gets right up in my face again. “Don’t pretend that you would’ve said no if I ripped off your underwear and fucked you right here in the pouring rain. Don’t make this any more complicated than it is.”

His words are a much needed slap in the face.

“You know you and Michael are exactly the same, right?” I take another step back. The furious look on his face is intimidating even if I know he won’t hurt me.

“Don’t even put that little shit into the same sentence with me. We’re nothing alike.”

“Yeah, you are. Two sides of the same macho asshole coin. He pretends he wants a smart, successful wife and the whole white picket fence thing, but he can’t stop sticking his dick in whatever bimbo comes his way. But you? You pretend you don’t give a shit about anything when anyone with eyes can see you’re so hungry for more that it’s eating you up inside.”

“Then you need to get your eyes checked,” he snarls.