Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(139)

Nix was just like every other girl I'd met. But that was good.

I didn't need different.



****



December had turned the air into a metallic blanket. It crackled with static energy, my nose burning red the longer we stumbled through the streets.

One drink had quickly become two.

Then three.

I'd stopped counting after five.

We were a blur of laughter, heated stares, and progressively more bold touches. As we climbed into the empty subway car, Nix caught her heel on the floor's rough edge. Bending low, I meant to just help her stand.

That was when she kissed me.

She tasted like beer, and a little bit of whiskey—the shots we'd swallowed had been a surprise. Her hands were in my hair, nails digging into my scalp like I was going to vanish. “Your place,” she mumbled, talking between tangling her tongue with mine. “Now. Right fucking now.”

I'd pegged Nix as standoffish. Clearly, I'd been way off the mark.

Holding her close, loving how her body warmed us both against the winter's chill, I guided her out of the metro station.

“How drunk are you?” I asked, curling her against my hip as we climbed the stairs of my building. I wanted this woman, but if she was too wasted to know what was about to happen...

Unlike that scumbag from earlier, I was no rapist.

“I know what I'm doing.” She bit the words off, the first hint of the attitude I'd seen in her when we'd met mere hours ago.

Through my whirl of alcohol and lust, I studied her. What was going on that I'd missed? She'd been brisk in the beginning. And now she's begging you to take her inside your place. Stop analyzing it.

“Kiss me again,” she demanded, shoving me against the wall beside my apartment door.

Fuck analyzing.

Clutching my keys in one hand, I curled the other into her hair. It was thick, soft as velvet. “Yes Ma'am.” I forced her lower, arching her spine as I buried my mouth onto hers.

Nix's lips were as pillowy as whipped cream, her hips yielding under my seeking fingers. When I crushed her to me, her breasts plumped over my chest. If she'd had on a low-cut top, they would have spilled out.

Without breaking our kiss, I shoved the key into the door, kicking it open. Finally I pulled away, sucking in air. “The bed,” I growled, giving her a shove. “Now.”

Nix landed there, rolling to her back and yanking her jacket off. The look in her eyes lured me. Pink tinged her cheeks, a mix from the cold and her obvious desire.

Approaching her, ripping my own jacket away, I threw it to the floor. Bending down, I slammed my hands onto the bed on either side of her knees. “Shirt. Off.”

She shivered visibly, nails hooking under her top so she could pull it over her head. The result mussed up her long hair, ruining what was left of the precise, pulled-back style. Nix went to fix it, but I grabbed her wrist. “No,” I whispered, “I like it messy like that.”

Her eyes flashed, as if she were trying to recover something in her brain—a deep thought. “You do? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, pulling myself on top of her. “Plus, it's only going to get worse. Believe me.”

Nix squirmed, lying back in my shadow. Her bra was gorgeous, an expensive, silky thing in pale lavender. This woman had money—that, or a sugar daddy.

What if she does?

That shouldn't have bothered me, but somehow... the idea of another man spoiling her had me bristling. It's the alcohol, I told myself. It's fucking with my mind. Shouldn't have mixed so many things.

Yeah. It had to be the foggy drunkeness. Why would I give a shit about who someone else belonged to?

I'm a bad person, I knew that to my core. All I wanted was to dominate this woman, leave her panting and broken so that my cock was the only dick that could ever satisfy her again.

I love the sound of that. Sliding towards the edge of my bed, I unhooked the button of her pants. Nix was ahead of me, kicking her heels off. “Eager?” I asked, grinning up at her where she was lying.

I saw the dip of her throat flex. “Maybe. Is that weird?”

“What?”

Her mouth moved like a fish, then she looked away. “Nothing, forget it.”

Watching her for a long moment, I said, “I want you to be eager.” My teeth slid over the inside of her pants; she twitched, gasping. “Everything I do is meant to drive you so fucking wild that you forget what planet we're on, baby girl.”

She shifted her body, pushing her hip against my cheek. “Then hurry up, get to that. That's where I want to be.”

A flutter of doubt flew through my mind. Is this girl using me? That would be new; my motif was to fuck people, then forget about them. No attachments. Nothing long term. I wanted to hear women scream my name, but I always forgot theirs.