Page 87 of Wicked Sin

“When?” She turns, looking genuinely confused. Still a firebrand, still full of fight, but I’ve tripped her up.

“When I pushed you against the wall.”

“Oh.” She blinks. Then shrugs. “I goaded you into that.”

No. Fuck. “Even if you tried, I should have walked away. I know how to de-escalate situations. I don’t know why I can’t with you.”

“Maybe I make you feel things you don’t like.”

“The problem is that I like them too much.”

Another shrug.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. This out of control chaos, the chemistry that fucks with your head. Or is it just me? Do you think it’s better to be numb? Frozen?”

“You tell me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re pretty chill, too. Areyoufrozen?”

Fuck. That’s not what I meant. “Can I touch you?”

She frowns. “Why?”

“So I can show you that I’m not.” I move closer. Close enough to touch, to grab, to pin hard against me, but I don’t. I wait for her to turn.

When she does, I reach for her hand, asking her to give it to me. I press it to my chest, where my heart is thumping painfully. “Do I not feel hot-blooded to you? I have to keep my feelings contained, but—”

“Do you?”

“You’d rather I explode?”

“You can’t tell me that you get to be battened down and I don’t. Numbness is a coping strategy, and I think we both use it.”

She’s not wrong.

In my arms, she goes soft. Sweet. “We are a product of our lives. Everything that has happened has made us who we are. I just need you to remember that it’s as true for you as it is for me.” She exhales gently. “Don’t push me any harder than you let me push you, okay?”

“That’s pretty fucking smart.”

“Three years of intense therapy and training to be a counselor. I’ve put the work in.”

“And it shows.” I kiss her temple, then her cheek, and finally her mouth. Soft and sweet here, too. Giving. Warm.

We’re both hot-blooded in all the ways that matter.

Feelings are overrated.

“Do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry for food right now,” I growl.

She tugs at my shirt, wanting me naked. The feeling is mutual, and I strip her out of her t-shirt, baring her breasts. For my hands, my mouth. I lift her onto the kitchen counter then cup her perfect swells, pushing them together so I can go back and forth, sucking on one peak and then the other, until she’s grinding against my cock. Making helpless noises and begging me to do all the filthy things to her.

“Fuck me, Luke.”

Those magic words. I’ve said no enough. Held her at bay enough. We still need to talk about kink boundaries, but right now, I just want to be inside her. Simple. And oh so complicated, in so many ways safe words and the like could never touch.

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