The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(24)

“Did you forget something?” My voice was breathy.

He held up a tube of lipstick. My lipstick. It must have fallen out of my bag.

“Oh. Thanks.” I took it from his hand, waiting for him to turn and leave. But he stepped forward, forcing me out of the way as he came inside. “Cal, what are you—”

He crushed his mouth to mine.

I gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he swept me deeper into the room, kicking the door closed. The slam rattled the walls. The sweep of his tongue shook my bones.

With one hand I gripped his shirt, balling it into a fist to pull him closer. But with the other hand, I shoved his shoulder away.

This was us.

Push and pull. Cold or hot. Off to on.

We were magnets, one flip and we’d repulse each other. But turned the other way, there was no ripping us apart.

The rational part of my brain screamed for me to kick him out. Make him leave. But that little voice, the voice that hated reason and craved passion, whispered yes, yes, yes.

I tore my mouth away, the two of us panting for breath.

His eyes locked with mine, searching for my decision. Searching for an answer. Anything that might explain this chemistry. “Don’t answer the fucking door with your blouse unbuttoned.”

I raised my chin, my hand tightening even tighter on his shirt. “What are you going to do about it?”

Cal gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled. Whoosh. Buttons went flying as the sound of shredding seams filled the room.

“I liked this blouse, asshole.”

“Leveling the score, remember? I had to throw my T-shirt away last week.” He reached a hand behind his head and grabbed his tee, yanking it over his head. It dropped to the floor as I shrugged off the tattered remains of my top.

Cal’s naked torso was a gift to humankind. From broad pecs to chiseled abs to ripped arms, his body was honed to perfection. Add in that delicious V at his hips and the naughty little voice laughed victoriously. Yes. There would be no stopping, not tonight.

I could stare at him for hours, but he never let me. There was no such thing as slow when the clothes began piling on the floor. His shirt was gone and his mouth was on mine again.

I’d regret this tomorrow. History would repeat itself, and I’d spend hours chastising myself for being so damn weak. Still, I kissed him back, matching him beat for beat.

Some decisions were worth the shame.

His mouth was an addiction. The softness of his lips. The bite of his teeth. The wet heat of his wicked tongue. He kissed the way he played football. He kissed the way he fucked.

Without restraint.

Cal’s hands found my ass, squeezing so hard I squealed down his throat. But he didn’t let up. He knew I liked it rough and always delivered.

I slid my hands between us, fumbling for the button and zipper of his jeans. While I worked them free, he flipped the hooks on my bra, tugging it off my arms. With a few deft flicks of his long fingers, my slacks were unclasped and pooled at my bare feet.

My hand was poised, ready to dive into his boxers, but before I could wrap a hand around his shaft, my entire body jerked. I teetered on my feet, tearing my lips away from his to glance at my bare hips.

Cal had ripped off the panties.

“Stop tearing my clothes.”

He met my glare, then hauled me into his arms, spinning me until my back hit the wall. His frame trapped mine. Where Cal wanted me, Cal pinned me.

I’d never liked being manhandled, but Cal was the exception to every rule. No one compared to his strength. No one could lift me like I weighed nothing. His hands gripped me beneath my thighs, spreading my knees wide as he pushed his hips forward. The roughness of his jeans brushed my sensitive flesh.

“When did you start wearing panties?” he asked as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Instead of giving him an answer, I leaned forward and latched on to his neck, sucking and nipping so hard I’d leave a mark.

He groaned, the vibration racing straight to my clit. The dusting of coarse hair on his chest caressed my nipples as Cal’s arousal hardened against my aching core.

“Fuck me,” I whispered against his lips. “Now.”

A hand abandoned my leg and dove into his jeans pocket, coming out with a condom.

I didn’t ask why he had one at the ready.

There were a lot of questions I didn’t ask when it came to Cal.

Either he knew this was going to happen. Or he had it in case it was going to happen with some other woman.

I blocked that thought from my mind as he shoved his jeans down, just a few inches. Enough to free his thick cock and roll on the condom. As he positioned the tip at my entrance, I gave him a warning glare. “Slow.”

“Did you forget who gives the orders?” He thrust forward, hard and fast, filling me completely.

I cried out, savoring the stretch as my body adjusted to his size.

He dropped his forehead to mine. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Oh, God.” My eyes drifted shut. No one moved like Cal. No one made me feel like Cal.

He eased out, his hands sliding to my ass, pulling my cheeks apart just slightly with those long fingers. Then he slid inside again, this time inch by inch. It was only when he was seated as deep as he could go that I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

His eyes locked with mine, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Fuck, Nell.”