Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(17)

With an astronomical will, James leashed his demons and released Lita, stepping back to give her space. Lungs protesting his lack of oxygen intake, he watched her straighten and face him, cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild, reminding him of that night when she was only nineteen. Fuck, the similarity almost did him in. Made him want to fall at her feet and apologize until the world ended.

“So that’s it?” She sauntered toward him, making his eyes narrow. “You’re just going to stop?”

“You asked me to stop,” he returned through clenched teeth, needing like hell to reach out and touch, grab, overwhelm her.

Closer now—so much closer—she raised the shirt over her head, letting it fall to the ground, giving him an unobstructed view of her tits. “I asked you to stop because you wanted me to.” She ran her index finger down his abdomen, sending a bolt of need to his still-erect cock, thickening it as she watched. “And because I…wanted you to say no.”

Yes. The invisible chains holding him back clanked onto the ground. James lunged forward, hauling Lita up against him with one arm, yanking her skirt down with the other. Naked. He wanted her f*cking naked, without a goddamn stitch to offend him or share access to her body. As soon as the skirt dropped, her legs were around James’s waist, the head of his sensitive arousal slipping through her *. His hands molded to her bottom, giving her a nice glide up and down an erection that might as well have her name tattooed on it. “You know why you fit me so nice, Lita? Why all I have to do is tilt my hips to go home?”

Her thighs slipped down his sides, so she clung to his shoulders, working to get higher, leg muscles flexing. Even though his hands were braced on her ass, he loosened them a moment and enjoyed watching. Seeing her sexual frustration as she worked to stay on top of his cock. “James.”

“Why do you fit me so well?” he grated at her mouth.

“I’m your plaything.” Finally having found purchase, she writhed on his lap. “I’m your plaything.”

He slapped her backside. “That’s right. Only mine.” God, the flood of lust was battering him from all sides, the need to get inside her fierce. Waiting another second seemed like a travesty, but protecting her came second nature, so he took two steps and set her down on the desk, getting a priceless eyeful of her female flesh as he bent forward the remove his jeans and dig a condom from the pocket.

“No.” Lita shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

His look held a warning. “Lita…”

“You brought me to the doctor.” Her eyes grew glassy, her slight figure swaying on the desk’s surface. “You had me put on the pill yourself. I probably shouldn’t find that so hot.”

James tossed the condom onto the desk, eased between her thighs and let their mouths graze together. “You tortured me for a week. Blowing kisses to jackass boys in the crowd. Wearing my shirts to bed so they smelled like you the next day.” He shook his head. “But I couldn’t take chances with you.” His knuckle slid over her clit, making her gasp. “Or this.”

Doubt crept into her expression. “Is it you, then? You’re not—”

He cut her off with his mouth, ending the kiss by rubbing their damp lips together. “In this one way, I’m clean for you.” He dropped a hand down to stroke his aching cock. “You want it raw?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Somehow, floating in his lust-fueled consciousness was the important reminder that Lita hadn’t been with a man in a long time. The testosterone fueling him wanted to take her fast, hard, completely, but he couldn’t. Not their first time. “Lita—”

“You’re thinking too much.” She reached behind him and dug her fingernails into the flesh of his ass, drawing him forward. Their gazes held for a meaningful moment, before she moved her hands to his chest. Smoothed her palms over him in a circle. And pushed. “I said, I want to go home.”

This time, there was no conflict or hesitation. It couldn’t exist when lust, power and need was a vacuum, sucking all the uncertainty free. He wrapped Lita’s hair around his fist, hauling her head back and savoring the shocked whimper that passed her lips. “You’ll leave when I’m done with you.”

When Lita started to struggle in earnest, he released her hair in favor of yanking her hips to the desk’s edge. She tried to insert a leg between them, a lever to shove James away, but only succeeded in kicking over a plastic ice bucket and a stack of paper cups. Jesus, the combination of those objects scattering on the floor and her hands pushing at his shoulders made his blood turn thick, made it pound. Take, take, take. He allowed himself to experience her resistance, savor it, before wrapping a forearm around her waist and pinning her arched back to the desk.

The position left her thighs wide, her * on display. She made a distressed sound, her legs attempting to shoot closed, but he blocked them with his body. He didn’t so much as flinch when she slapped his face. “You’re not helping your cause.”

“Get off of me,” she said through her teeth.

James entered her body with a growl, a sound drowned out by her scream. Christ. Christ, for a moment, the dark game they were playing didn’t exist. He was finally inside Lita and what the hell else mattered? But the tight, sleek feel of her, the hands still attempting to push him away, called to his primitive nature, roused the more intense facets of it. James leaned down, putting his ear directly above her mouth, needing to hear everything that came out. Then he reared back his hips and drove into her hard, closing his eyes at the deafening cry she released.