“No.” I might be reckless sometimes, but I’m not stupid. Or suicidal. “If my father called three times, he has a good indication that I’m here. So I won’t be here much longer. I thought that perhaps we could make one good memory.” When he just stares at me, those dark eyes burning, I start to babble. “I want my first time to be my choice. You’re a good kisser, and I figure you’re good at everything else this entails. I’m tired of being a virgin.” True story.
He makes a sound like a trapped alley cat.
I continue, afraid he’s going to think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. “You’re not afraid of my family, and they can’t come after you. You’re safe, Thorn.”
“Baby, I’m nowhere near safe,” he says, clenching his fingers into fists.
Power thrills through me. Feminine power, because I can tell I’m getting to him. Being wanted by a man like Thorn is intoxicating. Even so, I have a functioning brain. “But we do need to discuss the whole obsession thing you admit to having.”
“You afraid I’ll have you once and become more obsessed?”
“How should I know?” But if his obsession with me feels anything like the demanding urge I feel to get back on social media, or the memory of his mouth on mine going through a loop in my brain, the matter needs to be addressed. “I can’t have you trying to kidnap me every time I’m in a bar.” My traitorous clit pounds in disagreement.
His nostrils flare and my body braces for attack. “You’re misreading me, Alana. I have no plans to take you back.”
“I’m a sure thing, Thorn. I just propositioned you. No need to go alpha male on me.”
“Just thought you deserve the truth first.”
I want to retreat but a sofa bars my way. “Even you can’t control the entire world.”
“No. Just you.” His breath looks frosty.
I frown. “It must be freezing outside. Did you get chilled?”
He nods. Once.
“How about I warm you up?”
Then he’s on me.
SIXTEEN
Thorn
Never in my life have I been offered something so sweet. I tunnel both hands through her luxurious hair and tip back her head, taking her mouth. She still tastes like the purest of honey, and this time there’s a hint of my imported coffee with it. But beneath both is the taste of the woman herself, something so savory and uniquely Alana that I drink to fill myself as much as possible.
God, her mouth is delicious.
She presses against me, her lush tits flattening against my much harder frame.
I deepen the kiss, and her body melts until I hold her weight. Her response is unbelievably honest, and it could be her innocence, but instinct whispers that it’s just the woman herself.
I believe her about not posting on Malice Media. I’d taste a lie in her words, and she’s innocent this time. The thought that somebody used her to get at me is pushed aside for now.
She fits perfectly against my frame, and I give her more of my tongue, one hand sliding down her fragile back to settle at her narrow waist.
Dreams featuring her have tormented me this last year, but not one comes close to the perfection of her in this moment.
Hell. It’s worth dying if I can take this memory to hell with me.
Her fingers dig into the front of my shirt and then she’s deftly unbuttoning it, her hands spreading across my torso. The soft hum of pleasure that emanates from deep inside her spectacular body slides into my mouth and surges through me like a live wire.
I fucking love how she’s soft everywhere I’m hard. Oh, it’s too late to save me, and my soul is doomed. But for the briefest of seconds, I can see heaven. Taste it, anyway.
Sweeping her up against my chest, I nearly stumble when she laughs, the sound free. Young and open.
Warning ticks in the back of my mind, but it’s way too late for that.
Regaining my footing, I stride through my home and up the stairs to my bedroom. I’ve never had another woman in here, and it feels right that she’s the one. No way am I going to examine that feeling.
I kick the door shut behind me and she smiles, leaning in and nipping my neck.
My girl likes to explore.
Then she sinks her teeth into the skin beneath my ear.
Fire roars down my spine to my balls, and I fight the desperate urge to push her down and fuck her until she’s screaming my name. Instead, I place her gently on the bed and crouch before her, taking in the desire and curiosity in her eyes. “You’re sure.” My voice sounds as if I’ve chewed on rusty nails all night.
“I am.” She hesitates only a second before reaching for my belt buckle.
Letting her play, I shrug out of my heavy jacket and then my shirt.
Her eyes widen and she reaches up to press her finger on a healed bullet wound. “There are three.”
They landed across my rib cage but weren’t a concern. The knife wound near my heart had almost ended things a week later, however.
She licks her lips. “So much pain.” Frowning, she looks up at me, her hands pulling my belt free. “How many fights have you been in?”