“I have a d-date,” I sputtered.
Something dark glinted in his eyes, and I was struck with the knowledge that I was way out of my depth with this guy. He knew more. Had seen more. Done more.
“Wrong answer,” he growled.
“What do you want from me?” I bit out, frustration bubbling up inside me. I gazed at him helplessly, shaking my head.
“You haven’t figured that out yet?” He stared at me, his eyes sliding from my eyes to my mouth, down my body and then up again. Alarm bells went off in my head.
His hand circled my neck. “Fuck,” he growled. “Then I haven’t been clear enough.” His mouth slammed over mine.
Chapter 13
HE CLAIMED MY MOUTH in a bruising, teeth-clanging kiss. I tasted lime and salt, and I felt like I was drowning in the sea. My hands flew to his shoulders for balance, then in desperation, I was clinging to him when I should have been pushing him away. He knew this though and wanted to prove a point evidently.
He pulled back slightly, his mouth a hairbreadth from my own. I inched forward, chasing that mouth, but he kept himself just out of reach, pulling his head back, making me come after him, tormenting me, forcing me to take what I wanted. Dimly I realized this, but I didn’t care. Not anymore. I was past caring. I only needed.
With a frustrated moan, I grabbed his face in both hands and held him still for me. It was a giddy, headlong dive into sensation. I kissed him. I took. I claimed. Like before. He had sparked a fire inside me and those flames were burning hot now. I did what I wanted.
I sucked on his top lip, my tongue finding that dent at the center . . . tasting it, loving it, savoring it with my lips, tongue, and teeth.
My hands drifted down from his face, fingers curling into his shirt, bunching the fabric in tight fists as I rubbed my tongue against his. He made a growling sound and backed me up until we collided into the door with a thud, rattling the hinges and knob.
I should have cared at the sound, at the noise we were making—anyone passing could hear and wonder. But I didn’t. I didn’t care. I only felt.
The naughtiness and savagery of it thrilled me. I was making out in a bathroom in a house full of people with a guy who wasn’t even my date.
I was wild and free and totally reckless.
His fingers curled around my wrists and lifted them off his shoulders. In one fast move, he pinned my hands against the door on either side of my head.
A small gasp escaped me. He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes so smoldering I felt their burn, their power as effective as his hard body trapping me against the door.
I tried to tug my hands down so that I could touch him again, but he held them fast. He shook his head once at me, sending a clear message. I wasn’t to move my hands. I was under his control.
My feminine hackles bristled at this show of dominance, but another part of me stirred, responding to his command over my body.
He kissed me again then. His hands slid down my arms. When I started to lower my arms, he snatched my hands back and held them to the door. “Keep them there.”
I obeyed, butterflies erupting in my belly.
Suddenly it dawned on me. This was him. The not-good, not-wholesome guy he had mentioned on the futon in my apartment. It was his hands pinning me hard to the door. I was staring at him, my eyes wide open and absorbing every inch of him as his lips ravaged mine.
The pressure of his mouth increased. His lips grew more demanding, his tongue a deeper tangle with mine as his bigger body pushed even closer against me.
I felt his cock through our clothes, the hardness grinding into my stomach and everything in me liquefied.
His hands resumed their slow descent and this time I didn’t move mine. I kept them against the wall, a true feat as his passed down my rib cage and then came around to claim my breasts.
I cried out, the sound swallowed up in his mouth as his hands molded to my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. His fingers unerringly found my nipples through the fabric, pinching and rolling. Bolts of pleasure-pain lanced through me.
His hands moved with purpose. Sure, swift, and just a little rough. I never knew it could be like this—I never knew I wanted it to be.
He bent slightly, his erection grinding right where I most needed him. I moaned again into his mouth.
A heaviness pooled in my muscles and my arms began to weaken and shake, slipping from where I held them against the wall.
As if he sensed their movement, his hands slammed mine back into place against the wall, his voice a hard rasp against my mouth. “Leave. Them. There.”
“Oh.”
It was the only sound, the only word I could make. My panties were wet. I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t so turned on. I moaned into his mouth, clinging to his top lip, then his bottom, then warring my tongue with his again.
His hands left my breasts and slid down, bunching my hem in his hands and dragging my dress up around my hips. His lips moved against mine as he spoke. “I have wanted to do this ever since you first kissed me.”
Before I could fully understand what this referred to, he slid his big body down mine and hooked one of my thighs over his shoulder. He traced a finger against the crotch of my panties. Heat scorched my cheeks because I knew he knew how much I wanted him now. As if he didn’t have a clue before.
He made a groaning sound and looked up at me, his eyes heavy-lidded and full with the promise of delicious things to come. “You’re so hot, baby.” He pulled my panties aside so that I was exposed to the air, his gaze. It was shocking, and the most exposed I’d ever felt, but I was so aroused I couldn’t move. Couldn’t try to cover myself from his eyes. His touch.
Still watching me, he rubbed a single finger over me, gliding it against my moisture until he found that spot. The spot that Harris never seemed to know even existed. Logan found it instantly and pressed down, rolling it slowly. Eyes fastened on my face, he bent his head and placed his mouth there until all I could see was his dark blond head. All I could feel was his lips and tongue, sucking and pulling on my clit, drawing it deep between his teeth. My head dropped back on the door and a shudder built, working its way up my body from where his mouth devoured me.
I brought a hand down, helpless, unable to stop my fingers from lacing through his hair.
I turned my head sideways and caught sight of us in the mirror. Me with my leg thrown over his shoulder and his head buried between my thighs, my fingers speared through his hair. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. My eyes looked fogged over . . . like they belonged to someone else entirely.