Dahlia tore her mouth from mine before she shot a dirty look over her shoulder at the stranger.
My fingers dug into her hip. “You’re killing me.”
Her attention back on me, her smile was devastating. “Kill me inside.” She fumbled with her purse. “After I find my key fob.”
I kept her close to me as a crowd of people coming out of a market converged on us.
She waved her keys over the electronic pad on the door and we both slipped inside. The temperature dropped considerably in the lobby. It should have doused the fire between us, but she just shoved her keys in her pocket and hauled me through the common area to the elevators.
She pushed me against the doors and went onto her toes again, nipping at my lower lip. “Why do you always taste so good?” She stuffed her hand into my pocket, humming as she felt how hard I was. But instead of copping a feel, she went for my box of candy.
“You like a bit of heat, Hellcat?”
She flicked out one of the slivers of Red Hots and put it on her tongue, then she covered my mouth.
The flash of cinnamon and Dahlia was a heady mix. She slid the candy along my tongue before sucking it into her mouth. She hissed at the heat, then when it dissolved, there was nothing but her and me.
The doors opened and we fell back with a laugh.
Her eyes lit. “You do know how to laugh.”
I slapped the second-floor button and lifted her up against me. “Laughing is overrated when I can have all of this occupying my mouth instead.”
Her legs went around my waist, and she chuckled into my mouth. “You do have a very good argument.” She buried her fingers in my hair as her thighs pulsed around my middle. “You feel so good.”
I leaned back enough to take a look at her.
She crossed her eyes and gave me an adorable grin. “You’re not taking advantage of me. I can hear your brain from here.”
“Is that right?”
She laced her fingers behind my neck. “Yes. It’s saying I should deposit her at her door and leave. But you see, there’s this thing about being a bit buzzed. It may not be the most elegant sex, but it’s always the best kind.” She nipped my lip. “No extra thoughts. Just feeling good. I just want to feel good. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The elevator doors opened, and I backed up enough for her to slide down to her feet. She drew me out, her long forefinger hooking into my belt loop. She walked backwards and all that riotous hair haloed around her head in the muted light.
She was leading me around by my dick for all intents and purposes, and I just didn’t give a shit. She unlocked the door, reached inside for the light, then her little purse and heels hit the floor immediately, and she leaped at me.
If I hadn’t been so in tune with her, she would have knocked me over.
She wound herself around me, and my hands went to her ass to hold her tight. We were little more than clashing mouths and twisted limbs as we careened into her living room. It was only because I’d been there once before that I knew the layout of the room enough that I fell on her couch with her on my lap. She pushed at my shirt, and I was out of my head enough that I didn’t stop her fast enough.
Clearly, she didn’t care as her lips raced over my neck and chest.
I tried to twist away to find the shirt, but she pinned me to the couch with her knees. “No hiding from me this time.” She drew her fingertips lightly over the scar that made a jagged trail over my neck to my chest. She followed it with her mouth, then she made a detour to twine her tongue around my nipple.
I slammed my eyes shut and tipped my head back on the couch cushions because I knew how bad it was. The scarred flesh and grafts along the left side were still angry, even after a year of healing. She would get a good long look and be repulsed. She’d seen a little of it in the trailer, but that time, I’d been little more than shadows and gruff annoyance.
Not to mention, I’d been in the midst of a migraine hangover and mean with it.
This was very different.
All the lights were on in her apartment, and I wanted her hands on me, not to drive her away.
“Nolan. Look at me.”
I didn’t realize my hands were fisted at my sides.
She lifted her shirt and tossed it away, then she took my hands and brought them to her breasts. “Focus on me. Touch me.”
I cupped her and leaned forward to taste the salt of her skin above the edge of her lacy bra. I coasted up to her neck. I found that little patch of freckles that made me crazy and sucked lightly. She purred and moved enough to get our mouths lined up.
I opened my eyes, and her gaze was unwavering. She was focused on me, not the scars. Not now, anyway.
She fumbled with my belt. “Tell me you still have those condoms.”
I lifted my hips enough to dig into my pocket and tossed the box of candy on the coffee table, then I unearthed my wallet.
We fumbled with our clothes, and another laugh rolled out of me as we battled to get free of cotton and lace.
Until it came to me getting free of my jeans. My fingers froze over the zipper.
The worst of the torn-up skin peeked from my zipper and across my side. The skin grafts and mottled skin continued past my zipper, down my thigh.
She cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my cheek, then to the side with my scar and then to my mouth. “Just be with me. It’s about you. Your scars don’t bother me.” She didn’t look away from me as I rolled on the condom, and she still didn’t as she climbed onto me.
My fingers dug into her hip with one hand as the other lined us up.
