The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(6)
“I hope that’s not true,” he choked out. “Or we are f*cked. I am so bad for you. You have no idea how much.”
She didn’t want to hear it anymore. She didn’t want to acknowledge anything that could drive a wedge between them after years of yearning for this moment. Good or bad, she didn’t just want this.
She needed it.
Alaine cupped his face in her hands, urging him to lift his gaze to hers. She licked her lips in response, but Chuito tried and failed to shake his head, as if her hold over him was that strong. He was a UFC champion. He could fight just about anyone and win. He had fought her too, tooth and nail, but not tonight.
His voice was raspy with longing as he argued, “We shouldn’t do that either.”
She didn’t listen. Instead she stood on her toes and forced his face closer to hers. The first kiss was soft, just his lips warm against hers, as her head swam with the collision of alcohol and lust.
It made her bold.
Alaine was the one to deepen it, forcing his lips to part to the sweep of her tongue. She swallowed his low groan as she tasted him for the first time. He shuddered in response to her brashness. She could sense the change in him, the defeat, as he ran a hand up her back and then threaded it into her long hair. His hold tightened at the same time he took over the kiss, stealing the reins from her as if she had never held them to begin with.
Her kiss had been bold but gentle.
His was dark, rash, and unforgiving, like he was trying to drown himself in it. More than an indulgence, it was a need she couldn’t name before this moment. The fire consumed her too, pulling her down into the darkness with him.
Maybe if the warmth of tequila hadn’t stolen her inhibitions, it would have scared her, but right now all she could do was feel the way her breathing fell shallow and her heart continued to beat violently. She clung to his shoulders and let him take her mouth the way he had taken her heart a long time ago—violently and without warning.
Everything in her body tightened, silently begging for more. The ache between her legs quickly became unrelenting, bordering on painful, as they kissed in wild, openmouthed desperation. The brush of her nipples through the lace of her bra against his bare chest sent shimmering darts of pleasure dancing over her skin in a way she had never experienced before.
Not with her other boyfriends.
Certainly not alone.
She hadn’t known this was what it was supposed to be like, chaotic and hungry, stealing every thought in her head but the need for more. Nothing mattered in that moment but that coil in her stomach, tightening with every hot, needy second.
She wrapped her arms around his back, digging her nails in, because the tension was so overwhelming a part of her almost wanted to fight against it. This was too intense, too extreme, as if a lifetime of frustration chose right then to swamp her senses.
She moved against him, needing some sort of friction, as she breathed little gasping sounds of bliss against his lips. Then, as if he understood that she had just completely lost herself, he jerked her head back, breaking the lifeline.
Chuito was breathing heavy too, but his eyes were dark, compelling as she blinked at him in a heavy-lidded daze. She tried to lean back in for more, but his hold on her hair was unforgiving.
“What do you think this is right now, Alaine?”
His voice was low, seductive in a way she had never heard before. She sucked in a startled breath at its effect on her. “I-I dunno,” she panted.
“No?” He arched an eyebrow. “You really don’t know?”
She tried to shake her head, but he wouldn’t let her. Finally she just closed her eyes and admitted, “I really don’t.”
“You tell me when you figure it out, mami.” He ran a thumb over her bottom lip, and she parted to him, opening her mouth with an invitation that had him groaning. “You’re gonna make me a pendejo tonight.”
She noticed his accent was more pronounced, reminding her of an angry twenty-year-old she had almost forgotten because she thought the years had changed him. Instead of pointing it out, she just asked, “Why?”
“I’m gonna draw this out as long as possible,” he confessed like it was a sin. “’Cause taking what isn’t mine gets me off.”
She opened her mouth to argue that it was his. It had always been his, no matter how badly they had both hoped and prayed it would stop, but he kissed her again before she could. She parted her lips wide to the onslaught, and his tongue swept in the same way she imagined his body would claim hers.
Maybe it felt the same to him too, because he pushed his hips against her stomach in response, and it brought the comparison into sharper focus behind her closed eyes. His tongue was warm against hers, almost hot with the flavor of tequila still on it. The kiss was wet but intimate, and she wanted it to be something more so desperately she reached between them to caress the thick, ridged outline of his cock through his jeans.
She knew it was big.
She’d known it for years because she sneaked peeks at him every chance she could, and this wasn’t the first time she’d seen him hard underneath clothing. It wasn’t even the first time she’d felt it hard pressed against her like this. They didn’t have sex, but they danced sometimes. She wasn’t an expert on size, but it was impossible to miss.
He grunted against her lips, and for one beautiful, heart-stopping second he thrust against her open palm, letting her feel him. Then in the next moment he grabbed her wrist before she could pull the button to his jeans undone.