Sweet Temptation (Sweet #4)(50)

He grasped her ankles and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. When her ass was level with his cock, he cupped her full bottom and lifted and spread, baring her pu**y to his advance.

With no work-up, no preamble, he shoved into her, sliding deep into her silken clasp.

He fell forward, his hands slapping the mattress on either side of her body. It wasn’t a time for slow, easy loving. That would come later, when some of the edge was gone. She was a need that fired deep in his blood.

There was desperation to his movements. His hips pumped forward in quick, jerky motions. His hips slapped against her ass with little finesse. It reminded him of a crude, quick f**k. And it was.

No words, no gentle endearments. It shamed him even as pleasure sizzled through his groin and painfully through his dick.

He was getting off quick, and it didn’t really matter if she did or not.

You’re a bastard. You have no business touching her.

It didn’t matter that he’d warned her. He’d been brutally honest with her. She knew what to expect and she’d accepted that. And still, guilt ate away at his gut.

He slammed into her, driving harder as he felt his orgasm flash over him. One ... two more quick, brutal thrusts and he was spilling himself inside her.

As he eased away, his cum smeared over her skin, and it turned him on all over again.

He turned away in disgust, reaching for the tray. He’d turned into an animal. Always, always he’d put a woman’s pleasure above his own. He loved and cherished women, and yet he treated Angelina with contempt almost. All because she claimed to care about him.

His hands shook when he set the tray down on the bed. Angelina slowly got up and walked into the bathroom. When she returned, no accusation reflected in her eyes. No animosity. He could swear they still brimmed with affection and trust.

She crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged next to him. He handed her a plate but didn’t look at her.

“Do you have the remote?” she asked.

He reached over to the nightstand to get the remote and handed it to her.

They ate in silence, the television covering the awkwardness. She ate the sandwich he’d fixed and periodically switched channels. After the thirteenth channel, he cast her a sideways look.

“I thought guys were the serial flippers?”

She grinned. “Can’t help it. Short attention span. It used to bug the shit out of David. Hannah would leave the room when we started arguing.”

For the first time since Angelina had burst into his well-ordered existence, he didn’t experience a surge of pain when she talked about David and Hannah.

“She never did like arguing. She was a born peacemaker.”

Angelina nodded. “And I was a born hothead. Not sure where I got it. David said our dad was a lot like Hannah. Quiet, reserved. I think David took after him. He was always so even keel. He used to tease me and tell me I got all the Latin genes.”

She put her sandwich down and turned her soft dark eyes on him. “Do you ever see your folks, Micah?”

He recoiled and looked away. Where the hell had that come from? How much did she know about his family anyway? He never talked about them. As far as he was concerned they didn’t exist. His family was David and Hannah, and they were dead.

“No,” he said shortly.

“Why not?” she prompted. “It’s been a long time. David said you hadn’t seen them since you left home all those years ago.”

“Then you have the answer to your question.”

She sighed. “I thought maybe you’d gone to see them after David and Hannah died.”

He turned back to her, his expression hard. “Why would I do that? They aren’t my family, Angel. My family died.”

She frowned unhappily. “What happened with them? Why do you hate them so much?”

His laugh cracked and sounded pretty pathetic. “I don’t hate them. To hate someone you have to feel. I don’t think about them at all. They donated genetic material to me. That’s the extent of the credit I give them in my life.”

“Wow,” she breathed out.

“There won’t ever be any Hallmark make-up moments with them. They stopped existing the moment I walked out of the door when I was eighteen. I’m happy with the arrangement, and I don’t really give a shit whether they are or not.”

“What did they do?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “That’s been years ago, Angel. No sense dragging it back up. It just doesn’t matter anymore.”

She turned her attention back to the TV and continued flipping the channels until he was ready to snatch the damn remote from her hand and knock her in the head with it.

“You done?” he muttered as he reached for her plate.

“Mmm hmm.”

He gathered the dishes and the tray and trekked downstairs to return everything to the kitchen. When he got back upstairs, Angelina had burrowed under the covers, the remote still firmly in her grasp.

He stripped down to his underwear and stood by the side of the bed.

“If you promise not to knee me in the balls, I’ll ditch the underwear too.”

She looked up and laughed. “Have problems with women being too active in their sleep?”

He grunted as he slipped out of his underwear and climbed into bed.

“You try getting your balls rearranged in the middle of the night. Not a nice way to wake up.”