that hard muscle, and I’m bunching his shirt in my hands, pulling myself closer. “I’m not interested in playing these games with you.”
He makes this sound in the back of his throat. A chuckle, but more like the sound an animal would make over its prey. His hands squeeze my ass, and then he’s lifting me up and setting me down on the counter. The metal of the sink edge is a cool line against my skin, but it barely registers as he gets in my face. “Is that why you can never say no to me, Hells? Because you don’t want me all up inside you? Because you hate it so fucking much when I kiss you?”
“Don’t you dare.” I glare at him. I shouldn’t want him, but I’m acutely aware of his hands on me, of the pulses of sensation that glide through me from his touch, arousing me until I have to squirm.
“Don’t I dare what?” He smirks, his hands finding my knees, long fingers splayed over them. He pulls them apart, shifts between my legs. “Don’t kiss you?”
He’s all heat up so close, and I can’t help but inhale his scent. It sets me on edge, my clit throbbing, as though it’s begging for him to slide those fingers up and touch it. As though that’s the only thing that will alleviate the ache he’s so intent on stirring up inside me.
“Don’t you dare try to make this something it isn’t.” I’m shaking under his steady gaze. Being so close to him is not helping me remember why I swore to never do this again.
Scraping his palm from my knee to my calf, he winds my leg around his hip. Automatically, I tighten it around him. I want him. One last time.
One last bite of Mace, before I start my fucker free diet. I can have that, can’t I?
Then he slips the pads of two fingers along the angle of my jaw, tilting my head as he presses his mouth to the corner of my lips, murmuring them up to my ear. “I’ve always been a bit of a daredevil.”
Lord have mercy. I don’t know which one of us starts it. His mouth is so close to mine. Maybe it’s my hands on his face that pulls him to me, or maybe he isn’t prepared to not back up his words with actions. Either way my heart is racing when he takes my mouth, his lips slanting over mine as he thrusts his tongue into me, licking and stroking as I drag him tighter to me. There should be nothing right about this, but it feels so damn good. He sucks on my bottom lip, nips the sensitive flesh there as both hands grab my hips and he grinds his hardness into me. A thrill runs through me. A desperate neediness that can only be filled with more.
Something breaks. A glass or a bottle, as I knock it off the bench, winding my other leg around him and leaning back, while I yank up the front of his T-shirt to find the hard ridges of his abs. Glass crunches under foot when he shifts, bending over me and deepening the lock he has on my mouth.
“You better not be damaging my house, brother,” Tom calls out.
I jump, shoving at Mace as my face heats. I can’t imagine what Tom would think if he saw us like this. I don’t know how he’d handle the history here. Or the fact that I’ve never told him about anything that happened with Mace. I’ve practically lied to him our entire friendship. “Get off me, you big lug. I don’t want your family to see us like this. I don’t want them to know.”
He backs away, his brow furrowing as he adjusts his junk and surveys the broken glass before giving me one last heated glance. “Don’t worry, Hells. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“What the hell happened in here?” Tom asks, entering the room and flipping on the light. “And why are you perched on the counter?”
“No shoes,” I say.
“And she did such a good job of smashing the bottle, I didn’t want her to cut her feet.” Mace grumbles, keeping his back to Tom so his state of agitation won’t be made obvious.
Tom shrugs. “Broom’s in the laundry. I’m going to bed. You staying over tonight, Chelsea?”
I dart a glance at Mace, but I can’t
He makes this sound in the back of his throat. A chuckle, but more like the sound an animal would make over its prey. His hands squeeze my ass, and then he’s lifting me up and setting me down on the counter. The metal of the sink edge is a cool line against my skin, but it barely registers as he gets in my face. “Is that why you can never say no to me, Hells? Because you don’t want me all up inside you? Because you hate it so fucking much when I kiss you?”
“Don’t you dare.” I glare at him. I shouldn’t want him, but I’m acutely aware of his hands on me, of the pulses of sensation that glide through me from his touch, arousing me until I have to squirm.
“Don’t I dare what?” He smirks, his hands finding my knees, long fingers splayed over them. He pulls them apart, shifts between my legs. “Don’t kiss you?”
He’s all heat up so close, and I can’t help but inhale his scent. It sets me on edge, my clit throbbing, as though it’s begging for him to slide those fingers up and touch it. As though that’s the only thing that will alleviate the ache he’s so intent on stirring up inside me.
“Don’t you dare try to make this something it isn’t.” I’m shaking under his steady gaze. Being so close to him is not helping me remember why I swore to never do this again.
Scraping his palm from my knee to my calf, he winds my leg around his hip. Automatically, I tighten it around him. I want him. One last time.
One last bite of Mace, before I start my fucker free diet. I can have that, can’t I?
Then he slips the pads of two fingers along the angle of my jaw, tilting my head as he presses his mouth to the corner of my lips, murmuring them up to my ear. “I’ve always been a bit of a daredevil.”
Lord have mercy. I don’t know which one of us starts it. His mouth is so close to mine. Maybe it’s my hands on his face that pulls him to me, or maybe he isn’t prepared to not back up his words with actions. Either way my heart is racing when he takes my mouth, his lips slanting over mine as he thrusts his tongue into me, licking and stroking as I drag him tighter to me. There should be nothing right about this, but it feels so damn good. He sucks on my bottom lip, nips the sensitive flesh there as both hands grab my hips and he grinds his hardness into me. A thrill runs through me. A desperate neediness that can only be filled with more.
Something breaks. A glass or a bottle, as I knock it off the bench, winding my other leg around him and leaning back, while I yank up the front of his T-shirt to find the hard ridges of his abs. Glass crunches under foot when he shifts, bending over me and deepening the lock he has on my mouth.
“You better not be damaging my house, brother,” Tom calls out.
I jump, shoving at Mace as my face heats. I can’t imagine what Tom would think if he saw us like this. I don’t know how he’d handle the history here. Or the fact that I’ve never told him about anything that happened with Mace. I’ve practically lied to him our entire friendship. “Get off me, you big lug. I don’t want your family to see us like this. I don’t want them to know.”
He backs away, his brow furrowing as he adjusts his junk and surveys the broken glass before giving me one last heated glance. “Don’t worry, Hells. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“What the hell happened in here?” Tom asks, entering the room and flipping on the light. “And why are you perched on the counter?”
“No shoes,” I say.
“And she did such a good job of smashing the bottle, I didn’t want her to cut her feet.” Mace grumbles, keeping his back to Tom so his state of agitation won’t be made obvious.
Tom shrugs. “Broom’s in the laundry. I’m going to bed. You staying over tonight, Chelsea?”
I dart a glance at Mace, but I can’t
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