Page 7 of Cold Hearted Baren

“David?” I call quickly before I can stop myself. He stops and turns to look at me, his brows quaked impatiently. “C-can you spare a minute?”

There’s a stutter in my voice, and my heart is absolutely racing.

He searches my face for a second, his eyes momentarily clouding with an emotion akin to worry, but it disappears quickly, replaced by that infuriatingly inscrutable expression of his that makes it difficult for me to guess what he's thinking.

Do you not want me here?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest as if that'd stop my heart from pounding so violently.

He blinks at me, his stoic mask slipping for a second to reveal his confusion. “What?”

“I asked if you don't want me here anymore,” I repeat, raising my chin to search his face. “I'd understand if you want me to leave.”

“Why would you say that?” David asks, still looking very confused.

“I don't know…” I mutter, shrugging. “It’s just… ever since you helped me study the other night, things have been weird. You’ve barely spoken to me; it just feels like I’m inconveniencing you.”

He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “Oh really, Tara? Is that what you think, that you’re inconveniencing me?”

He starts to advance slowly, causing me to back up until my back hits the wall behind me, my heart pounding in my chest as he looms over me. His proximity is intoxicating, his scent enveloping me like a warm embrace. But beneath the allure, there's a dangerous edge to his demeanor that sends a thrill of fear mingled with excitement coursing through my veins.

I swallow hard, my resolve wavering under his intense gaze. But something inside me refuses to back down, to cower in the face of his dominance. I lift my chin defiantly, meeting his stare head-on. “Y-yes,” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper despite my determination.

“Hmmm,” he says, his eyes sweeping my face with a slow deliberateness that has my stomach doing flips. “You have no idea how hard I've been trying to ignore the fact that you're all... grown up,” he says, caressing my cheek like his control finally snapped. I am so shocked by his sudden change in demeanor, I don’t even know how to reply.

“So,” he continues, “did I answer your question? You shouldn’t speak so carelessly, darling. You can get burned playing with fire.” He drops his hand, but remains in front of me.

“Well, I'm not afraid of fire,” I reply, hunching my shoulders. I don't know where the courage came from but suddenly, I want to see what's behind that stony mask he puts on all the time. I want to see him lose control and reveal his true emotions. I want to feel the full brunt of that fire in his eyes.

“Maybe it's you who's afraid,” I say, finally finding my voice and arching my brows mockingly at him. “What are you running from, Mr. Armitage?”

His gaze darkens at my challenge, and for a moment, I think I've pushed him too far. But then, to my surprise, a slow smile spreads across his lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I warned you, Tara,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerously seductive.

His mouth descends on mine, hard, demanding. And incredibly hot. For the first few seconds, I stand frozen, shocked to my core, and unable to comprehend what is going on. It suddenly feels like every nerve in my body is on fire, consuming me from the inside out. I melt into his embrace, helpless against the overwhelming rush of desire coursing through me.

His lips continue to move hungrily over mine, his hard body pressing against mine, igniting a primal desire that I never thought myself capable of feeling. His hands are everywhere, my hair my shoulders, sliding down my back, then he grabs my ass and grinds roughly into me, dragging his mouth down to my neck.

The gesture is so incredibly hot that I let out a needy moan, my fingers tangling in his hair as I surrendered to the intoxicating sensations flooding my senses. I find myself drowning in a sea of passion, but I'm not fighting for survival.

“Can you feel what you do to me, darling?” He mutters against my neck, grinding his erection harder against my lower body.

I don’t have a chance to respond before his mouth finds mine again. The kiss was gentler this time, but no less intense. His hand cups my neck, applying gentle pressure as he angles my neck for deeper access. His tongue slides against mine in slow, sinful strokes, eliciting soft ravenous from my throat.

My hands lock around his neck, desperate to pull him closer to me. His hands continue roving, one moving up my shirt and cupping my breast. With what I assume is expert ease, he finds and pinches my nipple through the thin fabric of my bralette. It’s the first time a man has ever touched me like this, kissed me at all, and I can’t believe it’s happening with David Armitage.

Just has he begins dragging me back to the couch, a phone starts to ring. David wrenches his mouth from mine, muttering a soft curse under his breath. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and glances at the screen. I watch him, wondering how he seems so composed while I feel like I've just survived a whirlwind.

"I need to take this," he mutters, already raising the phone to his ear. "Excuse me."

With a last, lingering glance, he confidently strides away to take the call. I stand there, too dazed to react or even think. I raise a shaky hand to my mouth, slowly trailing my fingers over my lips, wondering if I’m in a dream but the slight tenderness of my lips is a testament that the kiss was real.

I flop to the couch, a silly grin spreading across my face. I suddenly feel like singing, or dancing. Or maybe I'd just keep floating on air like this.

My first kiss was with the hottest man alive.

It was only for a few moments, but I already feel like kissing him is addictive. There's no way I'm kissing anyone else after this. I mean… no one could ever measure up to the standard he set. Not even the heroines in my favorite romance books are kissed so passionately. So thoroughly.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting the euphoria of the moment wash over me.

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