Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(43)

I can’t believe I’m kissing Mallory Scooter.

But none of those thoughts came.

Not when our lips met. Not when her hands slid up my chest, wrapping around my neck. Not when I tightened my grip in her hair, pulling her in, kissing her with such force I was sure I’d bruise both our lips.

There was no disbelief, no uncertainty, no nerves or timidness to be found.

I kept my lips pressed to hers as I waited for the other voices I expected to hear, the ones that would whisper no, stop, you can’t, you shouldn’t.

But again, they never came.

All I felt was a profound sense of right, and the most powerful wave of possession I’d ever experienced in my life.

Yes.

Finally.

Take.

Mine.

Those were the thoughts on repeat in my mind as I left one hand in her hair, the other sliding down to grab her by the hip and move her fully into my lap. Her legs straddled me, the warmth of her thighs surrounding my hips, the heat of her center calling to the growing bulge between my legs.

She gasped for air when I finally broke the kiss, only long enough for each of us to take a breath before my lips captured hers again, hard and urgent. My tongue broke the barrier of her lips this time, seeking hers, the taste of paint and sweet tea mixing on my taste buds.

Mallory didn’t seem to have a single voice in her head warning her to stop, either. Her hands were in my hair, knocking the ball cap I’d been wearing to the ground as she tangled her fingertips in the strands and tugged, owning me in the same way I was owning her. She bucked her hips, rubbing the seam of her leggings over my erection, a lustful moan rolling through her at the contact.

My hands found her hips then, squeezing, locking her in place to keep myself from coming before anything even started. My body was reacting to hers in a way it’d never reacted to any other woman’s in my life. It was like two magnets being held away from each other for years, finally being released and clashing together in the middle, touching for the first time, feeling what it’s like to be whole.

I broke the kiss, biting and sucking my way over her jaw, her neck, up to capture her earlobe between my teeth. I sucked it gently, breathing a hot, wanting breath there that made her shiver, her thighs clenching around me.

“Take me upstairs,” she breathed, and the words were barely out of her mouth before I was kissing her again, lifting us both up from the floor with her still wrapped around my waist.

I stumbled a bit, sneakers sliding over the mess of paint we’d stained the floor with as I blindly made my way to the staircase in the back that led up to her studio apartment. One hand gripped the rail to keep us from falling while the other held her against me, her arms tight around my neck, our mouths bruising each other in an effort to get closer, to taste more, to feel everything.

We crashed through her door at the top of the stairs, the handle swinging back and hitting the wall so hard I was certain it’d left a hole. Dalí jumped from where he’d been on her couch with a hiss, tail poofed as his nails skittered across the hardwood floor. He bolted between my legs and down the stairs into the shop, and I reached back for the door, slinging it shut before I dropped Mallory’s feet to the floor.

As soon as she was standing, I twisted us until we’d traded spots, whipping her around to face the door and pressing her hard into it.

“This is bad,” I warned, running my tongue up the back of her neck until my lips were next to her ear. “You know it. I know it.”

Mallory whimpered, rolling her ass against my erection, her hands planted on the door, lips kissing the wood when she gave her reply.

“So stop, then.”

Her words said one thing, but her body elicited another plea, chills racing from where my breath met her neck all the way to where her fingers intertwined with mine on the door frame. I lifted those hands above her head, leaning my body into hers more, not sure if I wanted to get closer or somehow put so much pressure on her that she’d push back, push me away, tell me to stop — and mean it.

“Stop what?” I whispered, leaving her hands above her head as I trailed mine down her arms, her rib cage, her waist. I slipped one arm between her and the door, holding her to me, as the other hand rounded over her ass, fingertips slipping between her thighs.

She gasped, arching her back, head falling back as she leaned into the touch.

“Touching you?” I asked, sucking the skin on her neck. “Kissing you?”

“No,” she breathed, rolling her hips again, ass up, begging for me to slide my hand between her thighs just a little more. “Stop thinking.”

Her request might as well have been a spell for how quickly it knocked every negative thought out of my mind in that moment. All the stress I’d felt the last twenty-four hours, all the worry, all the pain — gone with those two words and the roll of her body against mine.

It was only her now, my seductive little witch casting her charm, pulling me in.

And I dived willingly into her incantation.

My hand slipped farther between her thighs, the side of my thumb brushing her seam as she arched into the touch. Her hands flew down from where they were held above her head, reaching behind her, seeking me, but I clamped my hands around her wrists, forcing them up the door again.

“Keep these here,” I demanded, my whisper a soft-spoken command that she whimpered in response to as if I’d whipped her, instead.