Page 12 of Not In Love

“Why not? You brought Kat into this, didn’t you?” He tilted his head, eyes burning. “Even though we both know that neither Kat nor Simon has anything to do with this. With us.”

Her breath hitched. “There’s no us.”

“They’re gone, Kash, and I’m here, whether you like it or not. I’ll be here tomorrow, next year, and a decade from now. How long will you keep me out? How long will you pretend like you didn’t pull together right after the accident?”

She shoved him, hard, flat palms to his chest, knocking him back half a step.

He grabbed her wrists without thinking, yanked her flush against him, the air snapping taut around them. Their breathing turned harsh, their chests falling and rising together to some silent symphony only their bodies could hear.

Diego felt like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Her body was tense, every sharp line of hers pressed hard against him.

Slowly, he loosened his grip, sliding his palms up her arms, threading his fingers into her hair. Waiting for her to push him away.

Instead, she burrowed closer into him until her breasts were crushed against his chest. Until his erection pressed into her belly. “This is wrong,” she whimpered, “but I don’t know how to stop.”

“Nothing’s wrong between us,” he whispered, before crushing his mouth to hers. Her breath hitched, and then like spring rain, she unleashed on him.

Lips and tongue and teeth…she licked and sucked at his lips like he was her last breath. Like she wanted to tear something out of him and keep it for herself. Her lush curves pressed into him, the sheer ferocity of her need obliterating every rational thought he had.

Dark chocolate and whiskey—the rich, addicting taste of her sank into his pores, spreading through every limb, pooling into heat in his balls. Against his mouth, she was want and fury and something wrenchingly sweet beneath.

Diego wanted to lure that sweetness out and keep it for himself. The world could have the controlling, perfect woman but this needy hunger was his. Only his.

He wanted her melting underneath him, revealing herself only to him.

Every time he eased up on her, she dug her nails into his scalp, into the nape of his neck, clinging to him. Licking into his mouth with her clever tongue, urging him to play some more.

By the time they pulled apart, both breathing hard, his cock felt like an iron poker, his skin two sizes too small. “I came here to apologize,” he rasped, voice rough. “For the haiku. For acting like an asshole toward you this past week.” His jaw flexed. “But fuck, if you don’t twist me inside out.” It took him a few seconds to walk his clouded brain to their back and forth. “That sugar daddy stuff...was a horrible thing to say. I wanted to shatter this prickly exterior you throw in my face at every turn.”

“You’ve managed that,” she said, eyes wide in her face. With her hair in messy curls, lips swollen, she looked less than put-together and more real than ever.

“I don’t care if Simon was your sugar daddy or if you married him because the world was ending…I don’t give a shit about the choices you’ve made to be here today, Kash.”

Her chin notched up. “Think I didn’t hear all that before?”

“I don’t care what others have said,” he said, regret pricking him fresh. “I shouldn’t have said it. And I’ll apologize any way you want me to.”

Her smile bloomed, slow and deliberate. Every muscle in his body curled with want at the spark of fire in her gaze. God, seeing her excited made something in his chest crack wide open.

One corner of her mouth kicked up as those brown eyes considered him with thorough leisure. “You really want to apologize?”

His pulse kicked hard, blood roaring. No doubt she would suggest something that would push him to the edge all over again. But he nodded anyway.

God, he was a fool over her.

“Get down on your knees,” she said, voice like rough velvet, “and apologize. If you really want to mean it.”

His gut twisted—every rational voice screaming at him to leave, to back away, to remember what the hell he came here for. But all he could see was the flush in her cheeks, the way her lips had parted when he’d kissed her.

What did she want?

A release valve for all that frustration? Probably.

What did he want?

He wanted her to drop the mask. Wanted her to admit that she needed him. And maybe, he wanted to burn off the ache clawing at him for months now.

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