She ground her teeth, her nails driving into her palms. “Then fuck off. Find someone else to play super-soldier around.”
Black fire flared in his dark eyes. “I don’t want someone else.”
“Well, you can’t have me.”
“Bullshit.”
The word sliced through the trailer’s air a second before Aslin snatched her wrist from her side and yanked her to his chest.
His mouth captured hers, savage and brutal. His tongue swiped over her lips, her teeth, stroking her tongue with dominating purpose. The effect on her body was instantaneous. She whimpered. Liquid heat flowed through her core, pooling in her sex. Her nipples hardened until they were twin points of aching need.
He deepened the kiss, taking possession of her mouth and pleasure. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t fight him. She didn’t want to. Not anymore. Hell could rise up and damn them all, but Rowan wouldn’t care. As long as she was in Aslin’s strong arms, being kissed by him, worshipped by him.
She pressed her palms to his chest—the very place she’d shoved him only a moment ago—and splayed her fingers. The rapid sledgehammer beat of his heart under her hand sent fresh heat to her pussy. The rock-hard tips of his nipples stole her breath. She dragged a thumb over one of them, curious to see what he would do.
“Oh fuck, yes,” he ground out against her mouth, cupping her ass with his hands to haul her hips to his.
The thick, rigid pole of his erection rammed into the curve of her sex. Undeniable. She whimpered her approval and teased his nipple again.
He hissed in a breath, thrusting his hips forward.
Rowan’s pulse quickened. She slid her hands down his torso and her head swam at the sculpted shaped of his abs under her fingers. They were so hard, so defined. The man was the epitome of physical perfection. And she was going to fuck him.
The realization slammed into her like a jolt of exquisite electricity. Her breath caught in her throat, and then she yanked his shirt free of his jeans and slipped her fingers under the hemline.
Oh boy.
His flesh was warm and smooth. His belly hitched at her touch. A raw groan tore from him, his hands squeezing her butt with cruel pressure as she sought out his nipples.
Fine hair dusted the massive expanse of his chest, tickling her fingers, exciting her need. It was rare to find a man with a hairy chest in Hollywood nowadays, and even the professional martial artists she occasionally dated had all fallen under the deluded opinion waxing and manscaping was the only way to go.
She moaned, loving the way the wiry hair felt under her fingertips.
Real. So real. There was nothing fake about him.
Nothing.
She captured a nipple between two fingers and pinched.
His mouth jerked away from hers, another harsh hiss escaping him.
Ducking her head to his chest, she bunched up his shirt, closed her lips around the nipple she’d just squeezed and sucked.
Aslin raked his hands up her back. His hips bucked forward, driving his jeans-trapped shaft against her mound. He groaned, digging his fingers into her shoulders. “Christ, Rowan…”
A shudder wracked his body. He snatched her chin with a strong grip, forcing her upright. His nostrils flared. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Don’t start something you won’t let me finish, Rowan.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you like this again until you told me to. I also promised once you did, I would unleash my control and—”
“Fuck me, Rhodes,” she cut him off, her heart wild, her breath nothing but shallow pants. “N—”
The word now never passed her lips. He captured it with his kiss, his tongue silencing her with hungry possession just as he grabbed her ass and spun around.
He slammed her against the door, his knee wedging between her thighs, his hands reaching for the hemline of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, stripping her of its paltry protection without pausing for a beat. She gasped, liquid want flooding her pussy.
“Christ, Rowan.” His murmur filled the trailer. “You are beautiful.”
He covered her breasts with his hands, rasping his thumbs over the distended points of her nipples. The satin of her bra emphasized the caress and she shivered, gazing up into his face as she reached for his belt buckle.
His stare melded with hers for a split moment, a low groan rumbling in his chest, and then his hands covered her shoulders and he was sliding her bra straps down her arms.
Her breasts fell free immediately. Her nipples—already puckered—grew tighter. Aslin’s nostrils flared at their erect state. He watched his fingers trace the aureole, his knee pressing harder to the junction of her thighs as he did so. She whimpered, arching her back to his gentle exploration.