Page 33 of Crave Me

He leans in close, grabbing me firmly around the back of my neck and yanking me so my face is only a breath away.

“Or I’ll fuck it. Remember how much you enjoyed gagging on my cock?”

All the blood drains from my face.

“What? Suddenly at a loss for vicious words to spew my way? Walk out of here with me so I can get you home safely, or so help me, Blaire, I’ll fucking carry you. But either way, you’re leaving with me.”

“You are such an arrogant dick. I’ll leave here with whoever I want. I’ll find—” His fingers tighten around my neck, pulling my face directly to his. The space between us is nonexistent, our noses practically touching now, his breath hot on my lips.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

His eyes dance down to my mouth, and I can’t fight the feeling his touch and filthy words ignite in me. I feel how slick I’m starting to get as my core aches. I should worry about how his dominance turns me on, but I don’t. I know deep down I want a repeat of what happened in his office. I’ve never come so hard in my life. I never imagined my mind and body reacting the way they did to Dallas’ commands, and I’ve been avoiding dissecting that. His little show in the bathroom only made me want him more. Time passes between us without a response from me, and he takes it as obedience.

“Good girl,” he praises. I know he sees the moment my features soften and my body relaxes. I don’t understand why I react to him this way. It’s not me. He brings out something in me that has long lain dormant, and I can’t explain the primal urge I feel to please him, to relax in his presence, especially when he’s the one in my life I am usually playing defense with.

He releases his hold on me and grabs my hand. I look down at where they’re joined, and my heart stutters in my chest. No one’s ever held my hand before, no one’s ever cared enough to. I follow him out of the distillery and into the night, the freezing Washington winter air sobering me.

We hustle to his fancy car, which looks entirely too nice for driving in the snow, but he seems to handle it just fine. He lets go of my hand and takes all the warmth with it. Opening my door for me, he motions for me to get in. I climb in quickly, rubbing my hands together, seeking the warmth he took from them. I study him the entire ride home, his chiseled jaw is covered with prickly facial hair, and the urge to run my hands over the coarse stubble is strong. I watch the way he focus on the road as the snow rains down on the windshield in a thick blanket, the movement of his legs as he releases the gas and pushes in the clutch, his muscled arm shifting gears. He’s so hot it’s painful.

I’m so lost in the image in front of me that I don’t realize we’ve pulled up in front of a large, northwest contemporary home, the garage door sliding open in front of us.

“This isn’t my place, Dallas.”

“You’re so observant. It’s mine. I asked you three times where you lived but you haven’t answered me. I’m tired and not going back out in the storm, so I have a guest room you can crash in.”

Panic sets in. Shit.

“Dallas, I can’t stay at your house. I must have zoned out, I rarely drink. But I definitely cannot stay the night here.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass. I’m not going back out in this. Look outside, Blaire, it’s a fucking freak blizzard. We’re here, so get out and let’s get inside to get some water and ibuprofen in you.”

His voice softens at the end, and I don’t like what it does to me. His concern over my well-being is foreign and does weird things to my heart. It needs to stop.

“Fine. But I’m not your problem to worry about. Just show me where I’m sleeping, and I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Blaire, it’s not a big deal. Calm down.”

I scoff and roll my eyes at him.

“Tell me a time in history when a man has told a woman to ‘calm down’ and she actually did it. Fuck off, Dallas.”

He looks at me blankly for a moment before opening his car door and climbing out, slamming it shut behind him. I follow him into his house and am immediately engulfed in his scent. Woodsy and clean and so him. His house is surprisingly modern for this area, with sleek, clean furnishings, hardwood floors, and minimal decor. We walk in silence into his kitchen, where Dallas hands me a water bottle and two pills. My hand goes to my hip, and I look up at him with the attitude I know he loves so much.

“Do you always have to be such a goddamn brat? Take the fuckin’ pills and follow me.”

Placing my hand out flat in front of him, Dallas drops the ibuprofen into my palm before snapping open the water bottle and handing it to me. I toss them back with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Atta girl. Now let’s go,” he says before putting his hands on my lower back, steering me around the corner and down a hallway. There are three doors, and he opens the only one on the left.

“My room is right across the hall if you need anything. There’s an en suite in here and I’ll go grab you some clothes. Be right back.”

He leaves me alone to take in the space. It’s a pretty traditional guest room—a queen size bed in the center, a dresser, and a settee in front of a large window. There are no curtains and the moon lights up the room in a shadowy, silver ambiance. I drift over to it, looking out into the night. The snow is still coming down heavily outside.

“Hey, here’s a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. That’ll hold you over till tomorrow.”

I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

The tension ratchets up as we stare at each other. I move toward him, all inhibitions going right out the window, wanting nothing more than a repeat of what happened in his office now that I’m in his home, no matter how stupid it is, when he takes a step back.

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