Brushing my lips over his, I move them upward once. Just a nudge, a tease to make him wait one second longer. He pants like he’s out of air. It’s exactly where I want him. And I damn well better get on with it before I’m out of air from the suspense, too.
Placing my other hand on the wall, I lean into him, chest to chest, and cover his mouth. I’m out of foreplay the second his silky lips meet mine. Angling his jaw, I swipe the tip of my tongue across the seam of his mouth, a silent message to open. He does on a little whimper, and there’s no stopping me from seeking more of the first taste I got. I’m finally kissing Aaron Manicki and he’s sweeter than I ever imagined he would be.
With each stifled moan and whimper he makes, clawing at my arm, I become more carnal. His mouth is a damn drug and has no business delivering such pleasure when it belongs to someone so boring. We’re lucky the wall is holding him up because the entire front of my body is slumped into his by a magnetic force that can’t be broken. Hell. I could fuck him right here and I’m pretty sure he’d let me.
He keens high and loud, squirming against me. It nearly does my head in and rushes all the blood to my cock until I realize he’s pushing against my shoulder. Tearing his mouthaway from mine, he turns his head to the side, eyes pinched shut tight.
“Wait,” he pants. “Wait.”
Oh, brother. The mouse is back.
Who is he fooling? I can feel his dick pressed up against my groin.
Come to think of it…
The filthy grind of my hips into his makes another moan spill from his lips. I lean in and nip one of them playfully, putting the ball back in his court.
When he opens them, his eyes are so fogged over by lust, I know it’s just a matter of moments before he gives up the bashful act. Except, their color seems to deepen… and then glisten.
“I can’t… I…”
A twinge of something foreign stabs my chest, seeing him on the verge of tears. I don’t do guilt. Guilt can go fuck itself. Aaron is responsible for at least half of his hard on. This is for my mental health, damn it. I need this man out of my system.
Brushing his nose with mine again, I decide that now is as good a time as any to play dirty. So, I glide my thumb under his lower lip as I whisper, “You don’t have to tell your husband.”
The shock on his face does stupid things to my heart. His expression flickers between awe and then immense sadness, crumpling before my eyes. Is my hoarse voice that much of a disappointment to him? He’s the one who fucking wanted to hear it, or so I thought. Maybe that was just sociopathic insanity I built up in my head.
A tear spills down his cheek and his jaw hangs open, silent. I wait, hanging on the moment for his verdict over my voice.
“I don’t…have a husband anymore.”
It shouldn’t relieve me I’m not corrupting a married man. I’m here to destroy, remember? But I believed him once before. Granted, it was over an art program that could have changed my life, but the point is he’s a liar. Once a liar, always a liar.
I could have told him Reider was bad news. Maybe Prince Charming ran off and left him, andMr. Innocentnever got over it.
Smirking, I reach for his hand and bring it up between us. Tapping my finger over his dreaded ring, I cock a brow at him, accusingly.
“He… he died. He’s dead.”
Dead… as in…dead?
What…
My grip goes slack. The reason behind Aaron’s current pliancy reveals itself in the way his hand falls lifelessly from mine like he’s got nothing left in him. I’m not sure how long I stare at him, my jaw agape as his eyes pinch shut again and more tears spill onto his cheeks. At some point, I have the decency to drag my body off his, but then I’m at a loss. I just stand there, paralyzed by the sound of his sniffles, watching him bury his face in his hands. I remember what a love lost feels like, and it is not a comfortable sight.
Sucking in a breath, he finally drops his hands and blinks at me. It’s as though he’s seeing me for the first time, or possibly not even seeing me at all, his pupils like pinpoints.
Glancing up and down the alley like he’s lost, he murmurs, “Shit. I’m sorry. I…I need to leave. I need to go.”
He turns, and just like that, he’s gone, hustling down the alley toward the parking lot while I stand in what oddly feels like a giant quagmire of guilt. Search and destroy wasn’t supposed to destroy me along with it.
CHAPTER 14
Easton
What’s six-foot-two, a fucking idiot, and carrying two milkshakes as he walks into a place he swore he’d never set foot in again? A jackass who apparently has a conscience after all.
“Still not my fault he fucking cried,” I mutter under my breath, getting off the elevator on the second floor, trying not to shudder at the familiar surroundings.