Page 20 of Taste Of You

The pure fury he looks over at me with melts as our eyes meet and he drops a semi-conscious Alex to the floor. He drops like a sack of potatoes.

From my periphery, I see Ben pull Alex away, nearly dragging him with his friends—the two that didn’t leave as soon as things hit the fan—assisting.

Funny, they never tried to help their friend. Just stood to watch.

“I’m okay,” I reassure him and lean into his touch as his bruised hand cups my face. He’s staring at me but not speaking, those warm brown eyes just watching. They wander down my face and body looking for any sign of distress, and I let him. Keep his attention on me. “Jet, baby—”

“Say that again. Need to hear it.” His voice is rough and full of the near catastrophic hunger I’m drowning in. I see the want in his eyes. Feel his need as it mirrors my own.

One look, and his actions from a few hours ago evaporates. I’m powerless.

It tears me in two, the need and fear a contradiction as a war wages within myself: stay or go.

He hurt me. Continues to push me away after each interaction, and yet, as his eyes roam my face and settle on my lips, I’m his.

No fight left.

“Baby,” I whimper, leaning closer and accepting his arm around my waist. I let his sudden possessive hold pull me in closer. “Take me out of here.”

“Fuck.” It’s an almost angry hiss, and his near black eyes look at me with desire and hate. “We shouldn’t, Millie. God knows I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” I beg without shame, my fingers digging into his shirt, refusing to lose their hold. “Just for a little while. I need...shit!” I squeal, finding myself airborne as I’m thrown over a strong shoulder. Jet’s shoulder.

Once more the noise level drops as he marches through the crowd on his way to the back. People gawk, surprise written all over their expressions.

That is, until my eyes meet Ana’s. The freak is looking at me with a smirk on her face while wiping a fake tear. As if to say I told you so and I’m proud of you.

My mature reply? I flip her off.

She gasps, hand clutching her chest while Ben slides in and wraps an arm around her waist. He’s all smiles, and winks. Both are bad influences and totally at ease while hugging.

Makes you think there is something more, and just as I’m about to raise a brow in question, a rough hand grabs the back of my upper thigh, making me lose all thoughts. Everyone disappears as we cross the threshold that leads to the back; my senses can’t seem to acknowledge anything but his touch. The way his fingers curl around my thick thigh and digs in.

His hold is possessive. Controlling.

The sound of a door—his office door—closing brings me back to the present. I’m set down on my feet two seconds after he kicks it shut, and the sound of a lock engaging meets my ears.

Forty-four seconds pass before he slowly lowers my body to the floor, my front sliding down his front. I stand between his body and the door now, pressed against him, while the thickness in his pants digs into my stomach.

There’s no mistaking his want, and my core throbs.

My thighs clench, a subtle movement he notices, and he licks his lips, looking down at me through hooded eyes. “I can’t keep fighting this, Millie. Just not strong enough.”

“I’ve never asked you to. Never,” I breathe, fighting to keep the nerves out of my voice. My hands are shaking, skin littered with goose bumps. “Kiss me, Jet. Please, kiss me.”

The last word barely passes through my lips when my back meets the cold door behind me. His body follows, molding to mine as his lips meet my own. This kiss is demanding, and I surrender my very soul at his feet.

Our tongues intertwine as he parts my lips, and a painful groan rips itself from his chest as mine caresses his. We taste each other; he’s sweet with a hint of the whiskey I saw him take a few sips of throughout the night. It invades my senses and annihilates my rationality.

I want more. Everything.

And as his hands wander lower, I arch into him in invitation.

“You taste of redemption, and yet, you’re my greatest sin,” he growls into my mouth. It’s deep and rough, almost an animalistic sound. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pulling back, I look up at him through my lashes. “Doing what?”

“Ruining me.” With that, he drops to his knees and throws one of my legs over his shoulder. Before I can respond, beg him to give me his lips once more, he presses his mouth to the seam of my bottoms. All thoughts vacate. Nothing registers but his open-mouthed kisses and the deep inhales—the rumble in his chest as he takes my scent into his lungs. “Can’t get you out of my mind, Camille. It’s fucking maddening.”

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