Page 38 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

I’d done a decent enough job not thinking about the stairwell. I’d go a solid five minutes in between my mind flashing back. Which was a pretty big feat, to be honest.

Because I’d been right about my thoughts regarding her.

That hard and prickly outer shell was hiding something a lot softer and sweeter underneath. And being able to experience that side of her? Fucking priceless.

Then some other idiot had to get ideas about being healthy and using the stairs, cutting things short that I knew would have progressed.

My face between her thighs.

Her legs wrapped around me as my cock surged inside.

Her walls squeezing me, her voice in my ear as she came.

“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” I said, looking up at her.

“You know more about this kind of thing,” she said.

“Fuck, did you just feel that?” I asked, faking a shudder. “I think hell just froze over.”

“Listen,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “If you want—“

She didn’t finish that sentence.

Because I reached up, grabbing her hand, and yanked until she was forced to move to stand right in front of me.

My hands went to her hips then, pulling her down.

She didn’t even pretend to fight it.

She just placed her legs on either side of mine, and straddled me, her dark gaze holding mine.

“There’s a lot of things I want to do,” I told her. “Argue over shit once again is not one of them.”

“I thought you liked arguing with me,” she said, giving me a knowing little smirk. Likely because she could already feel my cock pressing against her.

“I do,” I said, my hands sliding down her back to sink into her ass, dragging her closer. “But I found something I like doing even better with you,” I said as my hand tracked up her back.

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, playing innocent. “What’s that?”

My hand closed around the back of her neck, pulling her down toward me. “This,” I said, then sealed my lips to hers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Traveler

It was inevitable.

I mean, ever since the stairwell, I knew that this was going to happen again.

If I were being completely honest with myself, it had always been there, this sizzling undercurrent constantly belying all the so-called distaste or hatred between us.

Ever since we’d met, he enjoyed poking at me, because the fire he got in turn reminded him of a different kind of passion. And I’d—whether I would even admit it to myself at the time or not—always found his ability to constantly question or even downright goad me appealing.

What can I say? Guys who didn’t challenge me never stuck around long in my life. Maybe they’d be good for a short fling, but honestly, likely not even that.

I liked stronger energies. I needed someone who could match my own.

August could do that.

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