You Don't Own Me(93)

Snowflakes fall on his cheeks. I reach up and lick one. His skin feels hot. He leans imperceptibly closer. There is naked need in his eyes. I stare up at him and watch as his breath frosts before it reaches my face.

‘When I find something I want to keep, I never let go,’ he says quietly.

I smile.

He lifts my shirt and puts his fingertips on my belly.

I shudder. ‘Cold.’ But I don’t jerk away. I don’t want him to take his hand away.

He stops in front of a massive, souped up four-wheel drive. More lorry than car. He opens the passenger door and deposits me inside as if I weigh no more than a child. He closes the door, gets into the driver’s seat, turns on the noisy engine, and we hurtle through the cold streets of London.

‘Where are we going?’

He glances at me before returning his eyes to the road. ‘Do you really care?’

He’s right. I don’t. We don’t say a word after that. Sometimes I look sideways at him, but he has his head turned towards the traffic and his profile is stern, his jaw clenched tight. When he briefly looks at me his eyes are glittering and as cold as that of a serpent.

I wonder what he is thinking. I don’t ask. It feels like this is what we were meant to do. Always. The dislike was a temporary cover for this volcano of passion and lust.

When we reach his house, he turns to me. In the light of the street lamp, his eyebrows are a straight line under which pools of blackness have gathered. The scar on his face seems alive. He is the most intimidating and magnetic man I have ever met.

‘Last chance to back out,’ he warns. In the strange shadows his entire body seems to be crouched, tense and waiting. The potty-mouthed bastard is gone. I’ve never seen him look so grim or so apprehensive. At that moment I know that this is one of those times when I hold all the cards. When my decision will change everything forever.

Both of us know this cannot and will never be just a one-night stand. There will be no going back from this. It will be messy. Other people will get involved. And the inevitable break-up will be heartbreaking. My family will be hurt. I blank out the implications even as Jake’s face swims into my consciousness. Make no mistake. He is a criminal. This is a guy who gets laid a lot. I close my eyes. It can be a secret. It can be our secret. No one else needs to know. When it burns out, only I will suffer.

‘No thanks,’ I whisper.

His body becomes slack with relief. He got the girl again. He nods. ‘Thank God,’ he says savagely triumphant. ‘My balls are aching like they’ve been sucker punched. I need to have my cock in your hot little cunt as soon as possible.’

He hauls open the door on my side, scoops me into his arms, and carries me off to his lair. I look up into his face. Who’d have thought?

Him and me.





SEVENTEEN




Layla

He kicks the front door shut behind him. The house is semi-dark and his footsteps echo. He obviously doesn’t use this place much. There is a lamp lit in one of the rooms, its light spilling out into the hallway. He takes me up the stairs, opens a door, and lays me down on a very large bed. Silently, he moves to the fireplace and lights it. A gas fire throws up dancing flames and the sparse room becomes full of shadows.

He turns to me, an odd expression on his face, as if he is stunned to find me in his living space. There is almost an animal-like quality about him. Like a wolf that is crouched and tense, ready to spring on its prey. I drink him in, mesmerized by how large he is, how desperately I want him. He hesitates, as if his next move matters, then walks up to me and says, ‘Play with yourself until you are wet and hot.’

‘I’m already wet and hot,’ I gasp.

‘I want to see your pussy dripping. I want to be able to smell you from here. Can you do that for me?’

He emits heat like a radiator. I feel his power flow from his skin and envelop me like a mist. I don’t know why, but I do not feel the slightest bit shy. I lift my skirt so he will have a clear view and, spreading my legs, slowly slip my hand into my panties and over my mound. I look up at him and deliberately push my finger deep into my slick channel. My sex is so swollen and engorged with lust that a moan oozes out of me. The sound is thick and so full of need that it is a revelation even to me.

He stands very still, a stranger, watching me avidly. As if this is the first time a woman has ever opened her legs for him.

‘I’m dripping,’ I groan, my legs squirming. I’ve never been so hot or so wet before.

‘Show me.’

The ache is so strong it feels as if I am bruised between my thighs. I slide my panties over my legs and feet.

He catches me by my ankles, pulls my legs apart, and looks down at me. No man has ever looked at me the way he is looking. As if he is looking at the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life. Possessively and with pure, unadulterated yearning. It is addictive. I feel as high as I did that time I had a puff of weed behind the bicycle shed with Willow and her boyfriend. The knots in the thick muscles of his shoulders tell me how much control he is exerting over himself.