Torn (Billionaire Bachelors Club #2)(16)

“You totally put me on edge. I don’t get why you’re so hell-bent on pushing me away.” He stalks toward me, pinning me between the cool glass of the front door and his extremely warm, extremely hard body. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to figure me out.” I want him to leave before I do something really stupid.

Like let him kiss me.

“Ah, I think you do.” Bending his head, he sets his mouth against my cheek, his lips whispering across my skin as he speaks. “Don’t you feel it, Marina? Feel the chemistry between us, brewing and popping? Don’t you want to do something about it?”

“No.” Reaching out, I grab hold of his shirt, tugging him a little bit closer. Wait, what? I should be pushing him away. “This is a huge mistake.”

“What is?” He settles those big hands of his on my waist. His long fingers span outward, gripping me tight, and I feel like I’ve become seized by some uncontrollable force, one I can’t fight off no matter how hard I try.

That force would be Gage.

“I already told you.” God, he’s exasperating. It’s like he doesn’t even listen to a word I say. “Us. Together. There will never be an us or a together, got it?”

“Got it, boss.” He’s not really listening, I can tell. He’s pulled slightly away so he can stare down at me, too enraptured with his hands on my body. A shock of brown hair tinged with gold tumbles down across his forehead and I resist the urge to reach out and push it away from his face.

Just barely.

He slides his hands around me until they settle at the small of my back, his fingertips barely grazing my backside. I’m wearing jeans, yet it’s like I can feel his touch directly on my skin. Heat rushes over me, making my head spin, and I let go of a shaky exhalation.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper, pressing my lips together when I feel his hands slide over my butt. Oh my God, his touch feels so good.

What the hell am I thinking? Letting him touch me like this? It’s wrong. Us together is wrong.

So why does it feel so right?

“Do what?” His question sounds innocent enough, but his touch isn’t. He pulls me into him so I can feel the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against my belly and a gasp escapes me. He’s big. Thick. My thighs shake at the thought of him entering me.

I need to put a stop to this, and quick.

“I don’t think we sh—”

Gage presses his index finger to my lips, silencing me. I stare up at him, entranced by the glow in his eyes, the way he stares at my mouth. Like he’s a starving man dying to devour me.

Anticipation thrums through my veins. I should walk away now. Right now, before we take this any further. We’re standing in the doorway of the bakery for God’s sake. Anyone could see us, not that many people are roaming the downtown sidewalks at this time of night. He’s got one hand sprawled across my ass and he’s tracing my lips with his finger like he wants to memorize the shape of them.

And I’m . . . parting my lips so I can suck on his fingertip.

His eyes darken as he slips his finger deeper into my mouth. I close my lips around him, sucking, tasting his salty skin with a flick of my tongue. A rough, masculine sound rumbles from his chest as his hand falls away from my lips. He drifts his fingers down my chin, my neck, and my breath catches in my throat.

“Gage.” I whisper his name, confused. Is it a plea for him to stop or for him to continue? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want from him.

“Scared?” he asks, his lids lifting so he can pin me with his gorgeous green eyes. They’re glittering in the semidarkness, full of so much hunger, and my body responds, pulsating with need.

I try my best to offer a snide response but the truth comes out instead. “Terrified.”

He lowers his head. I can feel his breath feather across my lips, and I part them in response, eager for his kiss. “That makes two of us,” he whispers.

Just before he settles his mouth on mine.

The kiss is just the right blend of soft and hard, demanding and giving. I wind my arm around his neck, slide my hand into his hair and pull him closer. Needing him closer as our tongues dance, our sighs mingling together into one perfect, cohesive sound.

He pushes me against the cool glass, one hand still gripping my butt, his other hand drifting down my front. A barely-there touch over the soft cotton of my T-shirt, my entire body tightens in response; my ni**les harden beneath the lace of my bra.

I feel like I’m drowning. In his taste, his hands, his scent, his overwhelming presence. It’s so confusing, what I’m feeling while in his arms. I don’t like him. I don’t want to want him.

But I do.

The kiss grows hungrier, more insistent. Our hands are everywhere, his slipping beneath my T-shirt to touch my belly. Mine slide down to curve over his very firm backside, squeezing, pulling him closer. Until we’re nothing but a panting, yearning, straining mess.

I break the kiss first, staring up at him in dazed wonder. His swollen lips are parted, his hair a mess from my fingers, and he watches me, his breathing rough.

He looks too beautiful for words.

“We shouldn’t—”

“I’m sorry—”

We start talking at the same time, his apology making me want to shove him away.