Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(11)

Which was a lot.

I have no idea how long we kissed. You tend to lose track of time when you’re young and enthralled. But like all things sexual in nature, soon kissing was no longer enough.

I tried desperately to get closer. Burning hot, feeling ready to explode, I tore his hand from my hair and shoved it on my breast, whimpering needy little noises into his mouth. I needed more, so much more. I wanted his hands on me, touching me. I wanted skin against bare skin.

Shifting me in his arms, he lifted me higher and slid his hand down the back of my pants. One hand was squeezing my backside as the other slipped under my shirt and did the same to my breast. I was panting, and he was cursing. It was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. If he would have asked me to, I would have jumped on the back of his bike and ridden to the ends of the earth with him.

“Deuce,” I cried softly. “Oh my God, Deuce.” His hips were between my thighs, and he was grinding his body into mine. The friction of our jeans, the feel of his hands on me, and his tongue in my mouth—something was happening, something that felt right and wrong and too much and not enough. Something I wanted more than my next breath.

He shifted me again and jammed his hand down the front of my jeans.

“Shhh,” he growled into my mouth. “I got you. I f*ckin’ got you. Just let it go, baby girl, just f*ckin’ let go.”

His fingers slipped inside of me, and my body locked up tight. My sex contracted and exploded, pulsing through the wonderful sensations.

He bent his head, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Wish I coulda felt that on my cock.”

Oh. God.

He pulled his hand from my pants only to slide it back up my shirt to resume playing with my breasts. His hand moved from one to the other, and his fingers snagged on my necklace. Cupping the medallion in his palm, he looked up.

“Baby,” he breathed. “What the f*ck?”

“You gave it to me,” I said lamely. I left out the part where I loved it, never took it off, and sometimes would hold it in my hand and stare at it for hours.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He began thumbing my nipple, pinching and kneading the flesh around it. His groin pressed harder into mine. He started breathing faster. I started breathing faster.

“Kiss me,” I said breathlessly, needing his mouth. “Please…”

Gently, he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, pulling and lightly licking, and my head fell back against the wall. His mouth again found my neck, and my body lit up like a firecracker. I reached between us, reached for him, cupped him. Groaning, he pushed himself into my hand. The world ceased to exist. It was only Deuce and me and this beautiful, perfect moment.

It ended abruptly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair, backing away from me. “Fuck, I f*cked up.”

I took a step toward him, reaching out, wanting him back, but he stumbled backward, putting more distance between us. I dropped my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not feeling sorry at all.

He shook his head. “No, darlin’, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all on me ’cause I knew better, and I did it anyway.”

We stared at each other. He still wanted me. I could tell by his eyes. Frankie looked at me like that, like he wanted to eat me alive.

“I’m married,” he said quietly.

I knew that. My father kept tabs on everyone he considered even a mild threat to him, and the people he considered a major threat—people like Deuce—he had extensive amounts of information on.

“I know that,” I said just as quietly.

“And you’re sixteen…and I’m thirty-four.”

I knew that, too.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck!”

He stared at me a moment longer; his indecision plain as day.

Next thing I knew the door to the stairwell was slamming behind him, and I was alone. I sat back down and lit up another cigarette. And grinned.

? ? ?

Deuce got away from Eva as fast as he could, took the stairs two at a time, burst out onto the sidewalk, and slumped against the clubhouse, breathing heavily. He f*cked up. He f*cked up big-time. He was so far beyond disgusted with himself, but his cock was hard as a rock, aching for sixteen-year-old *. Christ. Yeah, he was just like his old man. Rock f*cking bottom.

He couldn’t even blame his f*cked-up marriage since he’d been solving that problem with club whores. This was different, so f*cking different and so f*cking confusing. He hadn’t wanted a sixteen-year-old girl since he was sixteen, maybe eighteen. But he wanted Eva, and now that he’d gotten a taste, he wanted her something fierce.

Girl was about to give it up to him, too. And not because he was coercing her into it, but because she straight up wanted him. She didn’t have the first clue how to kiss, but instead of being timid, like the teenagers he remembered from when he was a teenager, she threw everything she had into it. And when she came on his hand—f*ck—that was beautiful.

Goddammit! What the f*ck! How could he have lost control so completely? He was all about control. How could a sixteen-year-old have f*cked him up?

“Holy f*ck,” he muttered, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “Holy f*ckin’ f*ck, I f*cked up.”

“Yeah, you did.”