Page 23 of Defiant Devotion

He doesn’t remember me.

Either he’d forgotten me or he was faking it. I couldn’t figure out why he was acting like he was a stranger, but it was similar to how we’d come together the last time.

Strangers. Just two people wanting intimacy.

And in the midst of all this danger and confusion swirling in my life since I dared to break away from captivity, I needed it.

Ben grounded me. In the simplest manner, this manwassomething I knew. I was familiar with him. I recalled how he’d felt and the ease with which he’d mastered my body to make me come.

“Sorry. I must be mistaken,” he said, shaking his head.

“No.” I reached out for him, so torn with what else I could say.

He was mistaken. It was an error to assume I was a stripper or a whore here. He was also incorrect to not recognize me, or to act like he didn’t.

But he was right when he thought he could find a little extra fun in this room with me.

Pushed by a crazy need to have him again, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Keeping my gaze locked on his, I closed the distance between us until he had me in his arms.

This was wildly stupid. I was acting impulsively again with this stranger. Now wasn’t the time to kiss him, but I did. This wasn’t the place to bring my body flush against his hard chest, but I did.

Gripped with a desperation to feel him again, all of him, I gave up trying to make sense of this moment and took what I wanted, what my body needed.

Maybe it was pregnancy hormones making me uncontrollably horny for any man. Perhaps this was a form of delusion that could strike after the trauma of being held captive, killing a man, and staying on the run.

I didn’t know. I didn’t want to explain this deep need to feel Ben.

He represented strength and security. He was a representative of comfort and care. In that one night I’d shared with this stranger, I felt so alive and treasured. Valued and protected.

And wishing I could have those things again, I ignored my mind telling me that this was stupid. I dismissed the warnings that I could be making a mistake.

Lines were crossed. A huge misunderstanding had to be at play between us, but it didn’t matter. All that could matter was keeping my lips pressed against his, so hard and firm and demanding that I part mine. All I cared about was holding on to him and never letting go.

Every kiss he gave me heated up the desire coursing through me so quickly that I was dizzy under the spell of instant lust. Each grab of his hands on my sides taunted me to race that much faster toward wanting to rip his clothes off.

He growled and grunted, so noisy and feral, just like before. Ben—or whoever he was—didn’t merely peck at me with his lips and hug me within his muscled arms.

No, he moved with every inch of his hard frame. Pinning me to the wall, grinding his erection up against me, and slanting his head to the side to further force me into submission under his dangerously addicting kisses.

Oh, yeah.

In his arms, under his lips, I was free again.

Please.

Don’t ever stop.

Making out with my baby daddy obliterated all thoughts from my mind. Kissing him back erased all the stress and confusion that plagued me since I’d broken out from that house.

It couldn’t be wise to cave to instant desire like this. I wasn’t thinking straight—or at all—but I couldn’t help it.

I’d missed him.

I’d yearned for him. And as I tugged at his shirt with the least chance of breaking this kiss, I wanted to act on it while I could.

There was no telling if or when I’d ever get to see this man again. I doubted I would. So while I could enjoy the drugging intimacy and rabid lust that he offered me to experience, I would.

“You want?—”

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