Page 22 of Hidden Shadows
“Because seeing the man touch you was already making me angry enough. Seeing him kiss you…that would have tipped me over the edge. And I’ve been on edge all. Damn. Night. Watching you with him. Watching you in that top.” It was killing him. Every time she moved, the material of her shirt slid over her body like silk, leaving nothing to the imagination.
He wasn’t sure if he expected anger from her. Maybe frustration. He got neither. Instead, she stepped forward, eliminating the space between them, and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry tonight was hard for you.”
His brows flickered.Shewas apologizing tohim? After he’d just lost his shit at something that wasn’t her fault?
The heat of her hand seeped into his cheek, thickening the air around them. When her gaze shifted to his mouth, something kicked in his chest.
In almost slow motion, she rose to her toes and kissed him.
* * *
For a moment,Nixon’s lips were still against hers. Then she nipped at his mouth, and suddenly, he gripped her hips. Almost without her permission, her body leaned into him, her lips swiping his a second time, and a quiet, whispered moan escaped her throat.
Her thumb moved across his cheek, letting the rough day-old beard scrape her smooth, cold skin.
When the hand on her hip slid to her back and pulled her flush against him, she gasped. The second her lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside, tasting her. Melding them together.
The kiss was fire. It was heat and intensity and passion.
She moaned deep in her throat, and the second the sound hit air, he turned, lifting and pressing her to the wall. He was everywhere. Against her chest. Her core.
When his hand slid below her top, settling on her bare waist, she wanted to melt. Turn into pure liquid for this man.
She grabbed at the strands of his hair, tugging and pulling. Trying to find herself an anchor, something,anythingto hold on to.
Then his hand continued up the flesh of her side, her breath catching in her throat when he cupped her breast over her bra. She whimpered, a dull ache starting to throb through her lower belly. His tongue continued to stroke hers as he pushed the cup down and palmed her bare breast, his thumb finding her nipple and grazing it back and forth.
God, he narrowed her entire world to just him.
“Nixon…” She breathed his name between desperate kisses.
She was just lowering her hands to the hem of his shirt, was just touching the bare skin beneath it, when his mouth tore from hers.
Then she was on her feet, and he was two steps back, the expression on his face pure agony. Like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
“I need you to leave,” he rasped.
Her chest moved up and down so quickly that she wasn’t able to get a single full breath. She stepped toward him. “Nixon—”
“Please, Finley. You need to leave before I do another stupid thing.”
Stupid? He was calling their kiss, the way he’d held her, touched her, and set her on fire,stupid? While she’d been drowning in it…and not wanting to come up for air.
She swallowed, trying to keep the hurt from splintering over her face. Without a word, she grabbed her clutch and jacket, then turned and left, closing the connecting door after her. But she didn’t walk away. Instead, she leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, willing her heart to return to normal. For the air flow to even out in her lungs.
She’d kissed Nixon. And God, there weren’t even words for what it had done to her. Completely torn her apart.
Her lips tingled, and she grazed her fingers over them, still feeling him there, wishing she could tug him back.
For three more heartbeats, she leaned against the door, then she forced her legs to move forward, only stopping when she reached the bathroom. Lowering her clutch and jacket to the counter, she looked up at her reflection.
Jesus, she looked exactly like she felt…completely undone. Her lips were red, her eyes glazed, the tight peaks of her nipples pushing against the thin material of her shirt.
She looked like she’d been well and truly ravaged.
And the thing was, if he hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have either. Because no part of her had felt capable of pausing what they’d started.
Her phone dinged from inside her clutch, and her fingers trembled as she pulled it out.
