Page 37 of Game Changer

The music pulses and throbs around us.

My skin is ablaze everywhere we’re touching. I cling to him, as if he’s the one to put out the flames instead of the one to start the fire.

I kiss him the way I want to, not the way I think I should. Not the way the woman in the picture would kiss him, but the way I wanted to kiss the man who protected me in the dark with his body.

The one who doesn’t see that he deserves protection, too.

I reach up to thread my fingers through his hair and tug. When I exhale a trembling breath, his lips part.

I change the angle and let out a little sigh that’s lost in his mouth before forcing myself to pull back.

Clay’s half-lowered lids brush my cheeks.

“The fuck was that?” he murmurs.

My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t meet his eyes. “I wanted to know what it would feel like if you kissed me.”

He curses again.

I start to reach for my seatbelt, but his arms are a cage.

He grabs my chin and forces my gaze up. His eyes are glittering gems in the dark.

“That wasn’t it.”

Before I can react, his mouth slams down on mine.

He’s as rough as I was gentle.

His lips and tongue wreak havoc with my mouth, exploring every inch of me.

My pulse skyrockets as he tugs my earlobe between his teeth.

My body throbs, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch.

I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. I need more of this, of him.

If he’s trying to scare me away, it’s not working.

He strokes down my sides, one huge hand cupping my breast. My body swells, my nipples hardening and begging for his touch.

I arch toward him, my hand slipping beneath his shirt to land on smooth, muscled abs.

Clay groans his approval low in his throat, sending a delicious thrill coursing through me.

His thumb presses against my hip.

I reach around his waist, imagine the dark tattooed lines writhing beneath my —

Click.

The next second, his warmth is gone, and so is my seatbelt. He’s back on his side of the car, and the space between us is a chasm.

“Goodnight, Nova.”

Clay stares out the windshield, not meeting my eyes.

I brush my lips with a finger to make sure they’re still there.

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