Page 27 of Between Commitment and Betrayal
“They symbolize change. And growth, I guess. It meant something to me once.” I bit my lip as I looked at his, how close he was now, how I could feel his breath mingling with mine. “Felt like a symbol of being saved.”
“Hmm. Do you want to be saved now?”
“From what?”
He didn’t give me a moment to consider more. He pushed me up against the front of the Bugatti and devoured my mouth. I tasted his hate for all we were going through, his anger, his intrigue. I met it with mine. Bite for bite. Touch for touch. My hands were in his hair—pulling, clawing, consuming.
His fingers dug into my thighs as he lifted me onto the hood of his car and lapped at my neck as he shoved himself between my legs. I wrapped them around him immediately, my body latching on like a starved animal who’d found a feast.
Declan was bad for me. I knew it. Knew from the way he held himself in luxury and riches that he was as entitled as the last man I’d been with, and that last man had almost been the death of me.
Still, I couldn’t stop. Not even when the thunder cracked right after lightning struck bright and bold over the mansion he called a home.
He ripped his lips from mine only to drag them over my neck, to taste my sensitive skin there, to suck it like he owned it. “No. You don’t want to be saved from this. From me. You want it, Everly. All of it.”
I shook my head but held him close, ground my hips into his length and moaned loudly when I felt how big he was between my legs.
I wanted his reaction here and couldn’t ignore the pull of desire.
My body enjoyed a man taking control, even though I normally avoided it at all costs. “I’m here because I have to be, aren’t I? Living with all you people even when I don’t want to be.”
“Don’t want to be?” He lifted one eyebrow, and then his hand was skirting under my dress and into my panties. “Is it the rain making you wet or me?” he murmured against my ear as I breathed in the smell of Declan mixed with rain. Cold, raw, powerful.
Fighting his pull was useless. My body shook with need as though it’d been lost a long time and was finally coming home, back to what it knew, back to what it wanted.
“My late partner’s daughter, and she can’t even answer… doesn’t know which. Mywifehas no understanding of what really makes her so wet she’s dripping down my hand.”
His fingers moved against my folds, and my hips responded even though his words were cruel and mean. I didn’t care. I knew I would only have him now, this one time, and then I’d find a way to hate him again. “Just shut up and let me feel this,” I said practically to myself.
“You want all the control, don’t you baby?” he murmured before he got on his knees, his slacks instantly dampening where his legs touched the ground. He moved my thong to the side and bared me to the cold right before he dragged his tongue over my clit.
My fingers flew through his hair, gripping him immediately, grinding my sex into his mouth. Rushing toward my high was uncontrollable when his tongue flashed across my pussy, knowing exactly how to make me feel good.
But right when I was about to get there, he gripped my wrists and pulled his head away from me even though I tried to pull him back. “Please, don’t stop,” I whimpered.
“Say your husband’s name when you ask for it then, huh?” He slid a finger inside me as he stood, and I moaned, willing to take what I could get. “Jesus, you taste good when you want something so bad, Drop. You always this sweet when you lose your composure? And that pussy tightening around my fingers like they’ll give you life. You want life, Everly? You’d better say my name then.”
“Please, Mr. Hardy.” I knew it would drive him insane, but he was doing the same to me. I felt how he was holding back, how he stroked my clit, how his thumb brushed over it soft instead of rough, how my hips chased each touch, and he smiled like he had all the control.
Here, he did. Here, I loved seeing how he did too. It was almost like my body sighed, relieved in how he took all the worry away by knowing exactly what we both wanted, by steering the ship when I wasn’t sure how to anymore.
“Mr. Hardy?” He chuckled darkly, then slid his finger out of me. “I’ve been waiting to redden your ass for sneering my name like that all the time.”
He flipped me over without permission and bared my ass to the wind, to the rain, to him. Then he ripped my thong from my body.
“Hey, those are my nice ones!” I tried to act frustrated, moving to lift my stomach from his car, but he shoved me back down.
“I’ll buy you the whole lingerie store,” he growled. “Just stay where you are. On my car, bent over for me. Like a fucking painting in the rain.”
I looked at him over my shoulder but didn’t move. We studied one another as he stepped back and unbuttoned his suit jacket, threw it off, and rolled up the cuffs of his white collared shirt. It was instantly soaked by the rain, allowing the outline of his muscles, the hints of black tattoos on his chest and his strong biceps, to show through. I saw the man every woman longed for.
The man who was to be mine for a year.
He undid his trousers, pulled himself from them and stroked up and down, up and down. I whimpered at the sight, him drenched with water droplets teetering on every edge and angle of the strong bone structure of his face.
We came from different worlds. He loved control and domination while I wanted to appease the masses and squeak by unnoticed. He was intense and larger than life, and I was quiet and enjoyed the silence.
Somehow, we were all wrong for one another. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from calling out for him. “Declan.”
