Page 32 of Don't Let Go

The pressure of his lips moving over mine did more than hold me captive. It made me hungry—for more. Flashes danced behind my eyelids. Another place. Colder. The warmth of his mouth and a gasp of sound—his? Mine? I had no idea.

Fuck.

Iwantedhim.

Ice cold heat splashed through me even as he pressed his lean, trim, and tough body into mine. He was so polished and smooth it was easy to forget that he was also built for all kinds of heists. I didn’t stumble or fall. If anything, it was like I glided effortlessly until my back was against the steel wall.

The contrast in temperatures between his heat and the metallic cool sent another shudder through me. His tongue plunged inside my mouth. Every stroke of it invited me to open further and I wanted to suck him in deep. Drag every drop of taste from it like he was the tartest, sweetest, best Jolly Rancher ever.

As soon as the urge presented itself, I put thought to action. A low groan vibrated through him and seemed to echo inside my soul. It had been a long time…

A really, really long time.

Fisting his shirt, I fought to pull him closer. Desire leaked through the cracks in my frustration and anger. So much was out of my control. So many irons in the fire. There was what I knew. What I thought I knew. What I had to know…

And what I’d forgotten.

Them.

I’d forgottenthem.I’d forgotten theirrescueand my own captivity. I’d forgotten a vital slice of life and it aggravated me so damn much. Locke gripped my ass and lifted me. It shifted the angle of our kiss and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Not once did he lift his head from mine. I only breathed when he did. The longer he kissed me, the more aware of him I became. The tingling sensation of his lips. How they went firm and then softened as though he were determined and savoring in equal measure. The scrape of stubble on his upper lip reminded me this wasn’t a dream. The sharpness of teeth biting down showed me I wasn’t the only one hungry.

The tension of the past days wound so tight through me, it threatened to snap. Fuck. I wanted him so goddamn much and the small voice of reason that tried to argue for patience grew quieter. Or maybe my need drowned it out.

“Do something for me,” Locke ordered in breathless gasps between kisses.

“What?” I had my thighs resting on his hips, and his groin flush against mine. If not for all the clothing between us, we could already be…

“Tell me to back off,” he said, his voice ragged and his control seemingly eroded. Justus Locke was one of the few “slick” operators I’d known for years. He could charm with a smile, and had a way of making even the most challenging security systems roll over for him.

“What?” The syllable burst out of me, surprise causing me to jerk back and I hit my head against the metal. Shock more than pain had me shaking my head. Locke’s whole expression transformed as he slid a hand up to cup the back of my head.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, the careful brush of his light fingers a gift against my scalp and bruised ego. Had I really just clanged my head off the side of the truck? I ran my tongue over my lower lip and savored the way he fixed on the motion with his gaze.

It was impossible to ignore how handsome he was or how much liquid heat filled his dark eyes. The growth of stubble on his jaw gave him a rugged look.

“Rugged looks good on you, Mr. Locke,” I told him, and he let out a low groan.

“Goddammit, Beautiful. I need you to tell me to stop. To back off. Keep my hands to myself.” A wry smile accompanied each suggested command.

“Nope,” I said slowly, licking the taste of him along with that word off my lips. The fact his gaze seemed magnetized each time I spoke sent a thrill skating through me. “It’s been a long time,” I admitted.

“Fuck.” He dipped, resting his forehead against mine. “Patch… Fallon… Goddammit, what do you want me to call you?”

A smile curved my lips, it lacked the reserve or hesitation of earlier smiles. For the first time since I woke in that house, trying to peer through the sooty pinholes of my memory for those lost shadowy weeks, I felt…whole.

“You can call me Fallon,” I whispered. “If you want. I don’t really know her anymore.” I raised a hand to his face. “Right now, Patch seems on shaky ground.”

His stubble scraped against my palm. The roughness of it was delicious. An incredible reminder that we were here, we were alive…

“The last thing you need are my demands,” he said, the hoarse notes in his voice making me ache. “I’m not always a good man,” he admitted. “I’m selfish. I like to take what I want. Sometimes, I like it even more when someone else has it and that means I have to steal it.”

The confession bounced through me like some pinball fired in and stuck against a bumper that kept it flying.

“You… I’ve craved you for so long.”

“I don’t belong to anyone else,” I reminded him. It came out a little snappier than intended but it didn’t seem to dissuade Locke. If anything, his smile deepened.

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