Page 82 of Red My Lips

“What are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.”

Gage stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His eyes rake over me like a man dying of thirst in the desert, staring at an oasis. His attention surges through me like a sugar rush, giving me the high I’ve been craving. The one only he can give me.

Holy fuck, he’s so attractive it hurts to look at him.

My pussy throbs at the mere sight of him, my arousal joining the moisture already dripping down my legs. Gage drops his arms and pushes off the doorway to offer me the towel I hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be watched already, little devil? I’m disappointed. I had to make sure you hadn’t run out on me again.”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” I accept the towel and use it to wring some of the water out of my hair before drying off my body.

“I would have to be an idiot to believe you,” he states. “And I’m not taking any chances. I won’t lose you again.” I do my best to ignore how hungrily the hot tattoo god is looking at me, his eyes devouring every inch of my naked body like I know his mouth wants to.

Fuck I want him to.

“Don’t assume that I’m yours to lose, Gage. I haven’t decided how much I hate you yet.” I don’t bother to wrap the towel around my body, I know it won’t reach all the way around. I miss the oversized bath sheets I left at my place in Chicago—these dinky regular towels aren’t designed for bigger bodies. Instead, I reach for the bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

“Then let’s talk.” Finally closing the distance between us, he takes the robe sash out of my hands to tie it. He sinches the robe closed, pulling me closer in the process. “Because I have no intention of ever walking away from you.”

I want to kiss him. I want to punch him. But instead, I just turn around and walk out of the bathroom. I’m not having this conversation next to the damn toilet.

I rush down the hallway with all of the pent-up animosity brewing inside me, with Gage right on my heels. “You want to talk?” Reaching the middle of my bedroom, I whirl on him. “Go ahead, talk. Tell me why I shouldn’t still kill you for lying to me. Tell me why I should ever trust you again after how you used my own brother against me. Or maybe you can tell me how you plan on convincing me that you’re not a no-good sack-of-shit like every other man I’ve had in my life—including the one I just killed.”

“Let’s cut the shit, Jill.” Gage storms closer until he’s crowding me, the air around us crackling with tension. “You don’t care that I lied to you. And you’re not some doe-eyed innocent who had the wool pulled over her eyes. You’re mad because you feel like you betrayed yourself by not seeing what was right in front of you. We both lie to get what we want. And I wanted you, needed you. I’m not sorry for what I did to have you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. You know exactly what I’m capable of. It’s why you love me.”

His words piss me off, the truth of them digging under the walls erected around my heart. When he’s no longer able to restrain himself, his hands unclench at his sides to wrap around my waist and yank my body flush against his.

Staring up at him, every fiber of my being screams for his touch. I want him to kiss me, to fuck me, to mark me. I want his cock to split me in two before his lips bite away the pain.

Rearing back an arm, my hand lashes out until my palm strikes his face with the force of my torment. The strength of the slap jerks Gage’s head to one side, and he takes it like a hit of his favorite drug. A rumbling groan ripples through him as he slowly turns his head back towards me, his eyes on fire. The heat in his gaze sparks me from the inside until I’m going up in flames.

Leaning up, I pounce on him. My hands grip his face as my lips clash with his. His arms around me tighten their hold painfully until there’s no telling where his body ends, and mine begins. His mouth devours me—desperately, selfishly—like a man devouring his last meal before he meets his end.

I meet him at every turn, taking my own pound of flesh. My hands slide from his face to wrap around his neck to secure my hold as our tongues tangle and explore.

“I don’t forgive you,” I state breathlessly.

“You don’t have to,” he mutters between kisses. “You love me.”

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

“I don’t care. You love me.”

“I love you, but I don’t like you.”

“You’re going to marry me.”

“Don’t push your luck, Lawless.”

“You will.”

“I’m going to bed, and you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Get your rest. You’re gonna need it.” Strong fingers gently brush a wet strand of hair from my face, his hand threading through my hair to fist it at the nape of my neck. “In the morning, I’m going to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked—first hard and fast, then soft and slow. Then I’m packing you up and taking you home.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jill

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