Page 22 of No Angels

“When did you get this?”

“The week after I turned eighteen.”

I gape in astonishment. “But that was six months before we graduated. And you started dating Cindy Houlihan that same month. And asked her to prom.”

“I was a dumb kid and even though I was brave enough to get the tattoo, I wasn’t brave enough to show it to you or tell you what it meant. It’s only ever been you for me, Bumblebee. You’re it.”

“The whole time, I thought everything I felt was one-sided.”

He gulps and grabs my hands. His thumbs stroke over my knuckles and he drops a kiss on my forehead. “It was never one-sided, Cassidy.” His lips brush my throat. “Never,” he breathes over my collarbone.

He’s so sure of this. That this is the right time and the perfect place for there to be an us.

“I might not stay.”

He lifts his head, his expression solemn. “I know. But I can’t resist you anymore. I’ll take what I can get.”

He unsnaps his jeans and slowly unzips them. When he pushes them over his hips, his cock is right there. There’s a drop of cum leaking from the head, and he wraps his hand around the length. His clasp tugs it toward his navel and he throws his headback. His jaw clenches when he does it again and the veins in his muscled forearm ripple with the movement.

There’s not enough air to breathe. Not in this room. Not in the entire world.

My whole body bursts into flame. Like the fireman carry was justified and the house really is burning down around us.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding?” I croak. “No wonder the girls on the cheerleading squad fought over you.”

“The only one I ever went out with was Cindy, and we never went this far.”

“Then it was based on rumors that were true all along.”

“Crawl up onto my bed, Cassidy. On all fours, your ass in the air so I can smack it for all these questions.”

My mouth drops open. He strides forward and puts his finger underneath my chin. “You heard what I said.”

I swallow my astonishment and clamber onto his bed. I drop my face to my arms so I can watch him.

His expression is savage as he stalks toward me. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man who painted a mural of our history on his ceiling. It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who marked his body with a permanent reminder of his childhood crush.

I lose sight of him when he stops behind me.

When I feel the sting of his hand on my butt, my body jerks in surprise. He smoothes his palm down my spine, and then over the spot he just claimed.

That’s how I feel. Claimed.

I hear the crinkle of a wrapper and I know he’s putting on a condom.

I didn’t even have to ask. I’m on shots to regulate my dysmenorrhea, but I would’ve insisted on protection for him too.

Just another way this is different. Just another way he’s different. Conscientious and commanding at the same time.

He thrusts in all the way to the hilt and I shudder. I can feel every ridged inch of him when he wraps his hand around my hip, pulls out, and plunges forward again. It’s exquisite torture and I can’t stop myself from writhing in response. My hips are going to bear the imprint of his hold, like a brand on my skin.

“Mike,” I wail, and he increases the pace. “Come for me, Cassidy. Let me feel that tight little pussy grip my cock so I can make it mine.”

He’s growling like he’ll never get enough of me. His hips ram against me and he yells, “Fuck, yeah.”

I feel him spilling inside me and his hold on my hip relaxes as he slumps over my back.

“I’ll get something to clean us up,” he mumbles like he’s exhausted. “Just gimme a minute.”

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