Page 28 of Sweet Conviction

Half an hour later, I stride down the hall toward her hotel room, my mind a tangled mess, my emotions raw. I can't fucking think through the roar. I just want to shut it off and get lost in my wife.

I shove the key card into the lock and push open the door, my pulse pounding with the need clawing through my veins.

She looks up at me with those big, amber eyes, smiling like I hung the moon, and my fucking cock throbs.

"Hey, handsome." She practically launches herself into my arms, looping her arms around my neck. Her mouth lands against mine, her kiss soft and sweet.

Fuck, she's so beautiful it hurts. I want her so badly it's a physical ache. Her hands prowl across my body as she nuzzles into my throat, kissing and biting like she can' help herself. And fucking Christ, I want to push her up against the door and fuck her raw.

But I can't, not like this, not when I'm so fucked up in the head.

"Tempest, stop," I growl, my voice harsher than I intended as I try to contain her.

Her smile falters, hurt flashing in her eyes before she blinks it away. She drops back down to flat feet, her arms slipping from around me.

Goddamn it, I'm such a fucking asshole.

"Christ, I'm sorry," I rasp, shoving a hand through my hair, trying to get my shit together. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm an asshole."

She glances up at me. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's definitely not fucking okay."

Her gaze shifts across my face. "What's wrong, Dalton?"

"My grandfather came to see me," I mutter, grimacing. "He's got my head all fucked up, and I'm afraid if I touch you right now…"

"What? You're afraid of what?" she asks softly.

I blow out a breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "That I'll hurt you," I admit. Just saying the fucking words makes me want to howl in fury. But they're true. I'm so fucking angry right now, and I don't want to fuck her because I'm pissed. When I'm in her, it shouldn't be about anything but me and her.

She stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. And then her eyes narrow on me. Fuck. Now, she thinks I'm an asshole who can't even control himself enough not to hurt her, and she's mad as hell about it.

She stalks toward me, all sexy curves, golden brown skin, and barely contained fury. Before I can say anything, she shoves me up against the wall, her hands fisting in my shirt.

"Don't treat me like a breakable little girl, Dalton," she snaps, fire blazing in her eyes. "If you don't want me, say that. But don't tell me you're afraid you'll hurt me. It's bullshit."

Bullshit? Jesus. She thinks I'm lying to her? That I don't want her?

Oh,hellno.

I spin us around so she's pinned against the wall, trapped between it and my body. I wedge my thigh between her legs, pressing against her hot little cunt.

"You think I don't want you?" I growl, nipping at her jaw. "Take my fucking cock out, Tempest. See for yourself how hard I am for you; how desperate I am for any piece of you I can get."

I drag my lips down her throat, feeling her pulse thrumming wildly beneath my tongue. "Every minute of the day, I think about you—fucking you, consuming you, pounding into you so deep no one else ever even exists to you."

"Then do it," she breathes, slipping her hand between our bodies to grab my cock. She squeezes me through my slacks like she fucking owns me. "Consume me, Dalton. Ruin me. But don't you dare tell me that you're afraid you'll hurt me. I know you, and you aren't capable of that."

Christ, the way she touches me, the way she says my fucking name, the way she looks at me. The complete faith she has in me even when I have none in myself…

She sets my blood on fire, turns me into a slavering, unruly beast.

I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, my tongue plundering, claiming. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her teeth sinking into my bottom lip and spurring me on.

I need her naked, now.

I reach for the flimsy straps of her top, snapping them to peel it from her delectable body.

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