My fingers curl around the knob and I open it an inch. A soft sigh escapes my lips. Weston. “What are you doin’ here?”
Weston runs his fingers through his hair and kicks the door open with his good foot. Both arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorjamb. “That depends on if you let me in or not.”
Why is he here? Heat swarms my cheeks remembering everything we just done in that bathroom. Could he embarrass me anymore? “Why would I let you inside? It’s in the middle of the night.” I give him a good once over. “And you’re drunk.”
He reaches down and digs into his front pocket. He pulls out my cellphone and dangles it in front of my face by two fingers. “This is the reason you’d let me inside.”
What? I slap my palms against my pajama shorts and realize I really don’t have my phone. Dammit. Weston hums underneath his breath as he brings my phone closer to his face. “Looks like someone has a new text message.”
“Give it back, Weston.”
The edge of his mouth pulls up slightly. “Let me inside and I will.”
“Why? What’s in here that isn’t out there?”
Something passes over his face that I can’t pinpoint. “Let me inside, Roxanne.”
I felt that in-between my legs. That word slipping from that mouth is more than I can take. Keeping my eyes on his, I take a step backwards while opening the door wider for him. Something appetizingly wicked heats in those brown eyes.
With the help of one crutch, he wobbles forward. I watch as he shuts the door and locks it behind him. His gaze rolls over my small apartment and then back to me.
Taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth he places one arm against the wall. “Is he here?”
What? Who? Leaning closer he presses his cheek against my own. “Is he here?”
“Is who here?”
A stern grip cups my hip and guides me until I’m pressed against the wall. A strong wisp of alcohol heats my face. He’s definitely been drinking but for some reason he doesn’t seem too drunk. “Don’t play with me,” he whispers against my mouth. Is Blake here?”
Blake? Why would Blake be here? “Weston you’re clearly drunk–“
A groan slips from his clenched teeth and he presses his hand tighter around my hip. “Is he here?”
There is a demanding tone in his voice that makes a side of me quiver. “No.”
Ten rough fingers grip the nape of my neck and force my mouth upward. “Was he here?”
My thighs turn to goop. If he wasn’t pressing himself against me I’d probably fall. “No,” I whimper out.
Lowering his mouth to my ear, he breathes in. “Did he kiss you?”
I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m burning up … everywhere. A hard weight is pressing against my lower stomach and it is slowly eating me alive. I don’t lie. And it’s mostly because I want to see his reaction. This aggressiveness is searing underneath my skin. I want it. “Yes, what’s it to you?”
There is a few short moments of silence. All I hear is his harsh breathing against my ear. Then he laughs. It’s a low chuckle that sets that fire ablaze inside of me. The hand on my hip lowers to cup my ass and the other slides up my throat to gently grip my neck. “You like him, Roxanne? You like the way he talks to you? The way he touches you?”
Anger rushes my throat and a painful lump beings to grow. Tilting my chin upward, I stare up at him. Those brown eyes bore into me and then lowering toward my lips. “Yes.”
Something wild darkens his eyes. He laughs beneath his breathe and presses the palm of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Does he touch you like this?” he whispers against my mouth. He squeezes my ass and presses me harder into him. And I feel exactly how excited he is pressed firmly against my stomach.
The truth is no one has ever made me feel this alive. Hormones that I haven’t felt in years are raging inside of me. “Answer me,” he hisses through his teeth.
No, he doesn’t.
Weston’s teeth grazes my bottom lip before he gently bites down. All my fingers clench into his biceps. “You’re drunk,” I whisper.
I can feel his growl surge through me. “Does it look like I’m fuckin’ drunk, Roxanne. Stop avoiding the goddamn question. Let me fuckin’ have you.”
Let me fuckin’ have you. Grabbing my back he pulls me closer so he can bury his face into my neck. My core is throbbing. I need this release. I need this friction.
“No, he doesn’t,” I whisper.
Weston squeezes me tighter and brings his lips to mine. “I didn’t think so.”
He watches me through hooded eyes while he drags the tip of his finger to the drop in the front of my shirt. Arching my back, I press my chest against him. My tender nipples rub against his hard chest and it makes my head dizzy. “I’m goin’ to show you how you’re supposed to feel when you kiss.”
God, I can’t think straight. Every atom in me is driving me toward him. Begging me to strip him out of those clothes and let him have his way with me. But everything is spinning in my mind. Ryan and Maddox. Weston’s reputation. One night wouldn’t hurt though, right? Just one night. But would one night be enough? Weston’s lips are hovering over mine as if he’s waiting on me to kiss him. To make the first move. I can already tell that there is no way one night will be enough. Those large hands. That full mouth. Tattoos and muscles. Can anyone say no to him?
About the Author:
Alla Kar is from the Deep South. She lives there with her husband, feisty Chihuahua and Pit-bull puppy. She loves YouTube, Hulu, alpha males, southern gentlemen and everything new adult.
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