Page 49 of Bad & Bossy

His bloodshot eyes softened. Gently, his hand tightened its grip on my thigh just a little more, and my thoughts turned somewhere much darker. “I wouldn’t have been weirded out, Dana.”

I wanted to believe that I did. But when it came with the possibility of him putting those goddamn pieces together, it was hard. The lie wasn’t entirely a lie—there had been men I’d met since Drew had been born, and the moment a baby was brought up, it was as if I were spoiled goods. There was no telling if he wouldn’t have been the same.

“Are you okay to be by yourself now?” I asked. The twisting in my gut had only amplified, and although I was happy to be able to talk about Drew and my life casually now, that stone still sat at the bottom of my stomach, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Part of me wanted to run for too many reasons, but the other wanted to stay as long as he needed me.

His hand tightened again on my thigh as he leaned a little closer. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you need to get home?”

My chest tightened, his face just inches from mine. I wrapped my fingers around the seatbelt, needing something, anything, for support. “Honest,” I breathed.

The warmth of his breath ghosted my lips, sending my pulse skyrocketing. Why the hell did he have this much power over me? Why was I incapable of controlling my attraction to him? Why did my chest fucking ache for him when his hand cupped my jaw, his thumb so gentle as it swiped back and forth over my cheek?

“I still need you, Dana.”

A switch flipped inside of me. As if by primal instinct, I warmed so wholly to him that it almost frightened me. His lips met mine and I sank into him, something in my gut aching for his touch. “Then use me,” I mumbled against his mouth.

He kissed me gently, almost hesitantly. His hand inched higher up my thigh, the skin-on-skin contact making me tremble, and I knew damn well that the heat building between my legs would be my undoing. My shorts were already riding up from the cheap leather of my Camry, and all it would take was the lightest touch?—

His kiss turned deeper, his tongue delving into my mouth, his hand shifting to the back of my neck as his other crept higher, ghosting the frayed hem of my shorts. I pressed lightly against his chest, fisting his shirt in my palm. His heart beat erratically beneath it, thumping almost in time with my own.

Until his fingers slid up and inside my underwear.

My pulse hit a peak and I sucked in a shaky breath, gaining nothing but his air. “Cole,” I hissed.

“Fuck, you want me,” he replied. The tip of his finger slid down my cotton-covered slit, forcing a tremble through my body. “You still want me.”

I did.

I really fucking did.

“Inside,” he huffed, and within a second, his hand was gone, focused wholly on unbuckling our seatbelts.

Chapter 17

Cole

Icouldn’t keep myself away from her. Certainly not now, not after what I’d gone through and after what she’d seen. Maybe not ever. I didn’t know, and I didn’t fucking care.

All that mattered was her mouth on mine and the raw ache at the base of my core. Maybe I’d misjudged before—maybe it wasn’t alcohol I had been craving but her.

No. I still craved booze.

But it was enough to keep me satiated. It was enough to drag my thoughts away, to keep me clean, to keep me centered.

I shoved the master bedroom door open, the wood clanging off the wall, and forced her backward into the space. Half of her clothing had been discarded on the way up to the second floor, lost somewhere in the grand foyer or on the stairs, and she stood before me in just her bra and underwear. The little black set at any other time would have been my undoing. But she was ripping me apart with just her presence.

I’d felt how warm, how slick she was through that little black set. I’d felt how much she wanted me. It had almost been surreal, after all, what kind of woman would still want me after witnessing what she’d seen tonight? What kind of woman would see me at my absolute lowest and still ache for me? She hadn’t gotten that wet last time and it made all the more sense now.

Her fingers worked at the button of my jeans, fumbling and frantic, and all I could think to do was help her. She gratefully accepted and went up on her tiptoes, hooking one hand behind my neck, kissing me again. And again. And again.

I freed myself from the stiff material, my cock aching instead against the soft cotton of my boxers and kicked the jeans off behind me as I led her to the bed. It took everything in me, absolutely everything, not to take her the moment she laid back on the plush comforter, her lips tilted up in a soft, far too sultry grin.

Maybe I was shifting from one addiction to another.

Maybe she was salvation.

Grabbing the back of my shirt with one hand, I pulled it up and over my head, leaving myself bare except for my boxers. I wanted her in any way she’d give me. I wanted to taste her, devour her, sink myself inside of her and never leave. I wanted to worship the fucking ground she walked on.

She lifted up on her elbows and stretched her neck up to me, her mouth searching for mine, and I gave it to her on a silver platter.

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