fingers over my racing pulse as he leaned in closer. “I’m over it. Just one taste. That’s all I want.”
It was like he was talking to himself instead of me. As if he was trying to talk himself into doing something. I parted my lips and whispered, “Thorn? What are you doing?”
He froze, blinked a few times, and let go of me quicker than I bet that cop who’d been caught with a prostitute riding his dick in his car last week had let go of her. “
Jesus
. I’m sorry. Just…ignore that, please.”
Ha. As if.
I could pretend to ignore it, but I would never forget the way he’d looked at me—as if I was already his. And I was, even if he didn’t know it.
God,
I needed a cigarette now.
“You did it again,” I said, swallowing a painful moan when he reached across me and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. This time, he made sure to steer clear of my nipples. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to ease the ache he’d brought to life inside me. “Cursed—this time with the Lord’s name. I sense a mandatory confession coming on.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed the shampoo and poured it into his palm. “Around you, I find myself slipping back into bad habits. Habits I’ll never be able to truly escape.”
Like fucking women in backyards?
“What kind of habits?”
His hand was in my hair again and his jaw was set hard, and he didn’t even remotely resemble the man who had been about to kiss me moments before. Every movement he made was fast. Jerky. Unpredictable.
And oh my God,
he’d almost kissed me
.
What even was that?
“The kind I should have sworn off years ago.”
I played with my lip ring with my tongue, watching
him
watch
me
. A powerful headiness hit me, because he was looking at me like he wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over my piercing like I was. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence on you?”
Slowly, his eyes left my mouth and slammed into mine. “And if I am?”
“I don’t know.” I lifted a shoulder. “Whatever, I guess.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” he asked gruffly, his fingers moving over my scalp.
I lowered my lashes, because water and shampoo were flying in the air. “Honestly, I don’t believe in bad influences. No one is going to do something they didn’t already want to do. If you do something bad, it’s because you wanted to, not because someone ‘made’ you do it.”
“So if I convinced you to kill the guy next door—?”
“First of all, you wouldn’t do that. You’re too much of a Goody Two-shoes now.” I patted his shoulder comfortingly, even though the movement hurt my back. “But on the slight off chance that you aren’t, and you wanted the guy next door dead and asked me to help? Well, if I did, it would be because I wanted him dead, too. Not because
you
wanted me to want him dead.”
“I’m not a Goody Two-shoes,” he growled, his hand leaving my scalp. He yanked my hair back with the perfect amount of pressure to send a shaft of desire downward to pool in my belly. “You have no idea who I am. What I’ve done. What I want to do.”
“So tell me,” I said slowly, daring to glance at him through my lashes again. He was staring at me with so much heat I was seconds from ripping my shirt off and throwing myself into his arms. “What kind of guy are you?”
“The kind who is washing his best friend’s little sister, and trying to remember who she is—and more important, who he is.” He leaned in, nose to nose. “The kind who knows why your nipples are hard, and why you keep pressing your thighs together, and is doing his best to pretend he doesn’t see it. Who wants to press you up against this wall and fuck you, hard, until you come so many times you can’t possibly take any more of me moving inside of you.”
Well,
shit
. Damn him for putting such vivid detail into my head like that. I wanted him to do those things, too. So badly. “Why pretend not to think about those things at all?” I fluttered my lashes at
It was like he was talking to himself instead of me. As if he was trying to talk himself into doing something. I parted my lips and whispered, “Thorn? What are you doing?”
He froze, blinked a few times, and let go of me quicker than I bet that cop who’d been caught with a prostitute riding his dick in his car last week had let go of her. “
Jesus
. I’m sorry. Just…ignore that, please.”
Ha. As if.
I could pretend to ignore it, but I would never forget the way he’d looked at me—as if I was already his. And I was, even if he didn’t know it.
God,
I needed a cigarette now.
“You did it again,” I said, swallowing a painful moan when he reached across me and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. This time, he made sure to steer clear of my nipples. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to ease the ache he’d brought to life inside me. “Cursed—this time with the Lord’s name. I sense a mandatory confession coming on.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed the shampoo and poured it into his palm. “Around you, I find myself slipping back into bad habits. Habits I’ll never be able to truly escape.”
Like fucking women in backyards?
“What kind of habits?”
His hand was in my hair again and his jaw was set hard, and he didn’t even remotely resemble the man who had been about to kiss me moments before. Every movement he made was fast. Jerky. Unpredictable.
And oh my God,
he’d almost kissed me
.
What even was that?
“The kind I should have sworn off years ago.”
I played with my lip ring with my tongue, watching
him
watch
me
. A powerful headiness hit me, because he was looking at me like he wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over my piercing like I was. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence on you?”
Slowly, his eyes left my mouth and slammed into mine. “And if I am?”
“I don’t know.” I lifted a shoulder. “Whatever, I guess.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” he asked gruffly, his fingers moving over my scalp.
I lowered my lashes, because water and shampoo were flying in the air. “Honestly, I don’t believe in bad influences. No one is going to do something they didn’t already want to do. If you do something bad, it’s because you wanted to, not because someone ‘made’ you do it.”
“So if I convinced you to kill the guy next door—?”
“First of all, you wouldn’t do that. You’re too much of a Goody Two-shoes now.” I patted his shoulder comfortingly, even though the movement hurt my back. “But on the slight off chance that you aren’t, and you wanted the guy next door dead and asked me to help? Well, if I did, it would be because I wanted him dead, too. Not because
you
wanted me to want him dead.”
“I’m not a Goody Two-shoes,” he growled, his hand leaving my scalp. He yanked my hair back with the perfect amount of pressure to send a shaft of desire downward to pool in my belly. “You have no idea who I am. What I’ve done. What I want to do.”
“So tell me,” I said slowly, daring to glance at him through my lashes again. He was staring at me with so much heat I was seconds from ripping my shirt off and throwing myself into his arms. “What kind of guy are you?”
“The kind who is washing his best friend’s little sister, and trying to remember who she is—and more important, who he is.” He leaned in, nose to nose. “The kind who knows why your nipples are hard, and why you keep pressing your thighs together, and is doing his best to pretend he doesn’t see it. Who wants to press you up against this wall and fuck you, hard, until you come so many times you can’t possibly take any more of me moving inside of you.”
Well,
shit
. Damn him for putting such vivid detail into my head like that. I wanted him to do those things, too. So badly. “Why pretend not to think about those things at all?” I fluttered my lashes at
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