Page 11 of Rookie Mistake

I love hearing her tease me by calling me Loverboy, but I love hearing her moan my name even more. I want nothing more than to hear her screaming it while I eat her, fuck her, worship her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes heavy-lidded when I pull back, giving her a cocky grin.

“Wha—”

“God, will you shut up and kiss me already? I’m tired of waiting,” she murmurs, colliding into me and sliding her arms around my neck. Her fingers tangle in the hair at my nape, those pointy, black nails scraping against my skin and causingmeto fucking shiver.

Thank fuck.

I slide my hand to the back of her neck and pull her forward, my lips crashing with hers roughly, hours of pent-up want exploding between us, making the air heavy and thick. My tongue sweeps into her parted lips, and she whimpers when I stroke it against hers the same way that I would fuck her.

Slow and deliberate, I take my time tasting her, committing it to memory.

Hot and wet. A frantic, desperate tangle of tongues that doesn’t feel like enough, like it could never be enough.

This kiss is fuckingdangerous.

It’s the kind of kiss that makes a guy do stupid shit. A kiss he’d lay it all on the line for.

My pulse races when her hands slip beneath the loose fabric of my shirt, the muscles tightening as she rakes her nails along my abs. She whimpers, soft and so fucking sweet, when I bring my hand to her hair and fist it in response, tipping her headback and angling her mouth to kiss her deeper, swallowing down every little noise, every mewl.

Every fuckingbreath.

Her lips move from mine for the briefest fleeting moment, and I feel her whispering breathlessly against my mouth, “I want you. Please, get me out of here. Right now.”

I pull back, peering down at her as her plea washes over me. She has no fucking idea just how badly I want her, but fuck, it was that easy to forget we’re in a bar room full of people.

We’re not exactly at the kind of place with many options for privacy, especially for all of the things I want to do to her.

And apparently, I’ve got all of those things written on my face because she seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. Her eyes bounce around the bar, drifting over the crowd of people and around the room until it lands on the darkened hallway, and her brow lifts, an unspoken question passing between us.

Fuck it.

“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing her hand and weaving her fingers in mine as I turn and guide us through the crowded bar.

I have no fucking clue where I’m going; all I know is I want Zara alone. The hallway at the back of the bar is dark and small, with boxes of liquor piled everywhere and a few random photos along the walls. Zara’s hand tightens in mine as I lead her further past the bathrooms to where I see a set of doors at the end.

The door to the right has a sign that says Office on it, so I guide her to the one on the left and try the knob.

Thank fuck, it opens. I hurriedly pull us both inside and shut the door before someone sees us.

It’s dark inside the room, with only thin slivers of moonlight filtering through the window, but enough that I can make out what’s inside. This must be where they store the extra alcohol and supplies. There are boxes stacked around the room, and I can see the glint of glass bottles reflecting in the moonlight.

It’s slightly musty and damp in here, but at least we’re alone. The only sound is the faint thump of music coming from the bar, the bass vibrating the walls slightly as it pours through the speakers.

Zara turns to face me, her dark lashes fanning along her cheeks as she drags her eyes to mine, and I can’t wait another fucking second to touch her.

I curve my palm along her hip and close the distance between us until she’s pressed against my front. Her breath hitches at the contact, a breathy little noise escaping her lips that shoots directly to my dick and nearly causes my brain to short-circuit.

“Finally alone, Trouble,” I murmur. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

Her lips tilt and her eyes flare as she lifts her chin and ghosts her lips along mine. The smallest brush of contact that has me fucking dizzy with desperation to taste her, touch her, fuck her until she’s screaming my name.

“What I’ve been waiting to do all night,” she whispers against my skin, kissing the corner of my mouth softly at the same time she slides her hands beneath my shirt and brushes the tips of her fingers along my lower abs.

That’s all it takes for the tightly wound cord to snap.

My hand slides into her hair as she slams her lips against mine and moans hungrily into my mouth, the sound slipping into my bloodstream like a hit of the most potent drug, and I’m fucking gone. When her tongue sweeps into my mouth, I lift her off her feet and carry her to the stack of boxes behind her, placing her at the edge as I step between her parted thighs.

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