Tangled (The Tangled Series)(35)

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you back your dignity.”

I bump into several people on the way, making a slight ripple, so I’m sure Douchebag will notice us. “By the time I’m done, Billy Warren will be kissing your feet, your ass, and any other body part you tell him to, to get you back.”

She tries to pull out of my grasp. “No, Drew that’s not really…”

I turn to face her and put my arms around her waist. “Trust me, Kate.” Her body’s close to mine, her face so near I can see the green speckles in her eyes. Why the f*ck am I doing this again?

“I’m a guy. I know how we think. No guy wants to see a girl that used to be his with someone else. Just go with me on this.”

She doesn’t answer. She just raises her arms around my neck, bringing us together—chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh.

It’s agony. Exquisite, delicious agony.

With a mind of its own, my thumb draws slow circles on her lower back. The music swirls around us, and I feel buzzed—not from the drinks, but from the feel of her. I want to ignore the perfect way her body fits against mine. I try to remember my noble intentions. I should glance up to see if Dirtbag is watching us. I should, but I don’t. I’m too caught up in the way she’s looking at me.

Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I swear it’s desire I see swimming in those dark beauties. Naked, uninhibited want. I lean in and brush my nose against hers, testing the waters.

I’m not doing this for me. Really. I’m not doing this because being this near to her is the closest to heaven that I’ll ever get.

This is for her. Part of the plan. To win back the scumbag who doesn’t deserve her.

I press my lips against hers softly. It’s tender at first, and then she melts against me. That’s when I start to lose it. She opens her mouth, and I slide my tongue in slowly. Then harder, firmer, more intense, like the downhill swoop of a rollercoaster.

I forgot how good she tastes. More decadent than the richest chocolate. Sinful. It’s different from the other times we’ve kissed. Better. There’s no anger behind it, no frustration or guilt or a point to prove. It’s unhurried, languid, and f*cking sublime.

Our lips separate, and I force myself to look up, catching Warren’s devastated glare before he disappears into the crowd. I turn back to Kate and touch my forehead to hers. Our breaths mingle—mine panting, hers gasping slightly.

“It worked,” I tell her.

“What?”

I feel her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. And when she speaks, her voice is breathy. Needy. “Drew…could you? Drew…do you want…?”

“Anything, Kate. Ask me anything and I’ll do it.”

Her lips part, and she stares at me a moment. “Would you…kiss me again?”

Thank. You. God.

And as for you, Jiminy? Piss off.





Chapter 13

THE RIDE TO MY APARTMENT is an exercise in stunt driving. Trying desperately to keep my mouth on Kate and not get us killed. She sits on my lap straddling my waist, kissing my neck, tonguing my ear—driving me out of my frigging mind. I’ve got one hand on the steering wheel and the other wedged between us, gliding over her stomach, her neck, and those perfect breasts that tease me through her half-open shirt.

Do not try this at home, kids.

Her skirt bunches high on her thighs as she grinds herself on my straining cock. She’s so damn hot against me, I have to use every ounce of will not to let my eyes roll back into my head. I kiss her hard and watch the road over her shoulder. She slides up and down, jerking me off slowly with the pressure. Fucking Christ, dry humping never felt so good.

Control? Restraint? They went bye-bye a long time ago.

Finally, I pull into the parking garage of my building. I grab the first spot I see and drag us out of the car. My hands on her ass, her legs locked around my waist, I carry Kate to the elevator, our lips and tongues dancing furiously.

I didn’t lock my car. I don’t think I even closed the door.

Fuck it.

They can steal it. I have more important matters at hand.

I stumble into the elevator and push the button for the top floor before slamming Kate back against the wall and thrusting against her like I’ve been dying to do. She moans long and deep into my mouth. It’s like that scene out of Fatal Attraction, without the creepiness.

Making it to my door, I grope for the lock with one hand still holding Kate against me. She nibbles on my ear and whispers, “Hurry, Drew.”

I would have kicked the f*cking thing open at this point if the key wasn’t already turning. We fall into my apartment, and I kick the door shut with my foot. I peel her legs off me, and her feet slide to the floor, creating a delicious friction along the way. I need my hands free.

With our mouths still joined, I start unbuttoning the rest of her blouse. Kate is not so skilled—or she’s just impatient. She digs her fingers into the front of my shirt and pulls. Buttons scatter on the floor.

She just ripped my shirt open.

How hot is that?

I get to the clasp on her bra and pop it open. I’m an expert at those things. Whoever invented the front-clasp bra? God bless you.

Kate pulls her lips away and smooths her palms over my chest and down my abs. Her eyes are filled with wonder as they follow her hands’ path. I watch as my own fingers skim across her collarbone, down the center of her flawless breasts, and over that valley I love before coming to rest at her waist.