Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(54)

“Shit. I left my stuff at Blackbear.” How was that only earlier today? It’s been the longest day ever.

“Wait in the truck.”

A minute later, he’s back, bags in hand. He tosses me my jacket, shoving the rest into the back seat. I put it on and zip it up to my chin.

“Good?”

“It’s perfect.”

Dare gives a brusque nod before starting the truck.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he says, scratching at the hair at the back of his neck, his signature move when he feels uncomfortable.

“I want to.” And I plan to thank him in other ways tonight.

The rest of the ride is filled with sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I know exactly what’s going to happen when we get to his house. Hell, the whole shop knows exactly what’s going to happen.

When we pull up, Dare retrieves my bags from the back and carries them inside. He drops them at the door before turning to me. Sliding a cold hand around the back of my neck, he leans his forehead down to rest against mine.

“You’re always so warm,” he says, slipping his other hand up the back of my shirt. I shiver, but I lean into his touch anyway, gladly giving away all my warmth. Letting my purse fall to the floor, I push up on my toes, bringing my lips to his stubbled cheek. Dare clenches his eyes shut, as if in physical pain. I leave another kiss next to the first, then another, and another. I cup his cheek with one hand, pressing my lips to his sharp jaw, making my way to his mouth. I kiss his top lip first, and his mouth parts, letting me explore. When I suck the bottom one into my mouth, he groans, lifting me by my ass, and finally kisses me back.

He surprises me when he walks me over to the counter, sitting me on top of one of the barstools. He moves to the fridge, grabbing himself a bottled water, then stands on the opposite side of the counter.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to fuck me, either,” I say, disappointment lacing my tone.

“You may be too drunk for a tattoo, but I never said anything about being too drunk to fuck.”

Thank God. Dare opens the lid before tipping the bottle to his lips. God, even the way his throat moves when he swallows is sexy. As soon as the bottle hits the counter, I slide it toward me and take a drink. Dare rounds the counter, coming to a stop behind me. His arms circle my middle, and he reaches for the zipper of my jacket, pulling down. He peels it off me, letting it fall to the floor, nudging it aside with his foot.

His hand flattens against my chest, and I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat kicking furiously at his touch. He smooths his palm up my neck, then his fingers wrap around my throat.

“I want you,” he says, his lips against my ear.

“Have me.” I roll my head to the side, giving him access to my neck as my eyelids fall shut.

“I want you every day. And I don’t want anyone else to have you.” His nose grazes up and down the length of my neck.

“I think that’s called a relationship,” I breathe. He freezes, halting his movements.

“Then that’s what I want.”

I don’t trust my ears. Eyes flying open, I twist my head to look into his eyes. He’s serious. There are a million and one reasons we shouldn’t be together. The timing is all wrong. But something inside me tells me this is different. Something in the air tells me things are shifting. Something in his eyes tells me he feels it, too.

I tilt my head back to answer him with a kiss. His thumb strokes my cheek before the hand at my neck glides down to grip my breast over my shirt as he deepens the kiss.

I arch my back, pressing into Dare’s hand, and he pinches my nipple through the thin fabric, causing a moan to slip free. Suddenly, his hands are gone as he kneels behind me. I don’t get a chance to ask what he’s doing before a palm between my shoulder blades forces me to lean forward.

I’m bent over the counter, feet on the bar of the stool, ass lifted from the seat. I jump when he smacks two hands against both cheeks, then squeezes hard. I feel his breath through my leggings—which aren’t much thicker than a pair of tights—and then he’s biting me through the material. My breathing grows harsh as he continues grazing his teeth up and down my thighs, my ass. Sometimes soft nibbles, sometimes hard enough to make me squirm.

I feel his face move between my legs. He uses his teeth to bite a hole before ripping them wide. I gasp when I hear the rip, feeling the cold air hit me a second before his tongue does.

Holy shit.

My elbows are firmly planted on the counter, and I drop my head down as he licks me. My thighs burn from holding this position and my arms are already shaking, but I don’t dare do anything that will stop what he’s doing to me. Dare clutches my hips, arching my butt higher. He eats at me, devouring me from front to back and everything in between.

“Oh my God,” I cry, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears. Dare nudges me high enough to get underneath me—the back of his head resting on the leather-cushioned stool—before pulling me back down to straddle his face, spreading my legs open wide. His hands that lead to tattooed wrists hook around the tops of my shaky thighs.

“Fuck my face, Lo.”

I start to move above him, rocking my hips, but Dare pulls me down, flush against his mouth. I brace my hands on the edge of the counter as he grips my hips. I watch his face move between my legs, shamelessly grinding against his mouth. He licks me from ass to clit, and I shudder at the foreign sensation.