Page 13 of Wild Obsession

“Holy shit, you’re actually still a virgin,” I say. “You really are pining after me all these years later. Jesus.”

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m pining.”

“No, then why are you trembling the closer I get?”

“Why don’t you still reek of cigarettes?”

It’s a cute attempt at a jab, but it doesn’t save him. “I quit. Didn’t need their help getting boys anymore. They come to me more easily these days.”

I let my voice dip lower as I stab this most recent dagger into his chest. Tim stands more stiffly, but all that does is put us nose-to-nose. My arm cages him in on one side, my body leaning close so my presence envelops him. One avenue of escape remains open to him, but Tim stands frozen instead of taking it.

It makes me want to touch him. I know the merest brush of my hand would shatter him. The truth trembles in every over-taut line of his body, a body that has definitely grown up and filled out since this scene first played out under the bleachers. I let my eyes drift down, appreciating his broadened shoulders and sturdy chest. I never saw him naked when we were kids; he was timid and shy, and we ran out of time before things got that far. But I felt his body a whole lot, and I know if I touched him now I’d find him more solid, more masculine, thicker in all the best places.

Imagining it is having more of an effect on me than I’d like, but I hold my ground. Of the two of us, he’s definitely faring worse. Heat washes off him. Tim presses his back flatagainst the door. He keeps swallowing, like he can shove down his reaction, bury it in his gut and forget about it.

Not this time. No way. He’s not running away like he did in high school. At least not for the next six weeks.

“Keannen,” Tim says plaintively.

He sets his hands on my chest, but instead of shoving me away, he holds on, fingers curling in the fabric of my shirt. The desperation shivering through him makes me want to slam him against this damn door and kiss him until he’s hard and aching. A bare sweep of my tongue would probably ruin his pants right here in the hallway, and I want to see that for so, so many reasons.

I lean in, letting him think I’m about to kiss him until the very last second. He doesn’t resist or dodge out of the way, but just before I reach his lips, I pause.

“No,” I say so the word brushes his mouth. “You don’t deserve me. You didn’t then, and you sure as shit don’t now.”

Tim groans, hands tightening in my shirt.

I breathe in deliberately, letting the air I take from him skim his parted lips. Then I turn my head and sink to his neck. Not with my mouth. That’s far more than I’m willing to give him. Rather, I use the tip of my nose to trace a long line from the base of his throat to his ear. At the top, I pause as though I might take his earlobe between my teeth. Instead, I exhale, and shivers erupt on his skin as my breath ghosts over him.

Tim sucks in a breath, his body arching toward me. I don’t let him touch me, however, remaining barely out of reach. But every breath I draw, I draw from so close to his skin that he feels the rustle of air. Every breath I exhale, I exhale against his throat, his ear, his collar, all the places covered in goosebumps. Even the suggestion that I might touch him has Tim squirming against the door of his hotel room, his body so burning hot the heat laps against my skin. Still, I give him nothing but the hands fisted in my shirt, allowing him no touch but that.

“Keannen, this isn’t … what I wanted,” Tim says.

“Oh? Isn’t it?” I breathe hotly against the shell of his ear. “Strange reaction from a guy who doesn’t want it. How hard are you right now?”

Tim groans, but doesn’t respond. I let him squirm, let him suffer, but in truth, the teasing is turning me on more than I’d like. I might hate him for leaving, but I love the way he crumbles for me. I’ve loved it since the day I met him. The second I laid eyes on that scared little boy under the bleachers, I knew a single kiss could ruin him.

It’s too bad it ruined me too.

I won’t let it this time. This time, I’m in control. Tim can have only whatIwant from this, and not a drop more. And what I want is to torment him right up to the fucking edge.

“I asked you a question,” I say into his ear.

He groans again.

“What was that?”

“Very,” he says in a burst. “Very, okay? Very fucking hard. God damn it, Keannen.”

I chuckle. “Well, I’d expect a virgin to get worked up pretty easily. I mean, you’ve lasted, what? Twenty-five years? It’s gotta be tough not fucking for that long.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“If you say so.”

I draw close to his jaw, open my mouth wide and let my tongue stick out. I barely brush the coarse prickle of hair on his cheeks, coming so close the heat of my mouth tickles his skin. I know it does, in fact, because Tim whimpers like an injured animal and clutches my shirt like he’s going to tear it off me. I could ruin him with a breath, and part of me desperately wants to see that. For all that I’m teasing him, my cock is anything but silent on the matter. I’m glad I changed into looser pants than what they put me in for the show, but pretty soon the extra space isn’t going to matter.

“You’re so desperate,” I say, almost mouthing the words against him. “I bet I could turn you around right now, slam you up against this door, and—”

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