“You’ve got to be kidding.” Her sardonic half smile annoyed the hell out of him. “If you think you’re going to tell me that you didn’t sleep with those women, that they were all a ploy to get one over on the competition, you can just—”
He jerked on her arm and she fell into him, skin to skin. Lust sizzled through his body. Holding her against him, he walked her three steps backward until her ass pressed against the wall and his cock dug into the supple muscle of her lower belly.
Oh, yes. Delicious counterpressure expanded in his groin. Knowing she could get away from him but didn’t, didn’t even try, kept pushing him. Pushing him to push her. And push her. And push her.
“Fuck no,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I’m not going to tell you that.” He gripped a handful of her silky hair, pulled her head back. “I did fuck them. I fucked every damn one because I was fucking you out of my system.”
He yelled the confession so loud, Halina winced. Still, she never made one move to get away. For a reason he didn’t have the brain matter to figure out, that was such a turn-on. While at the same time he couldn’t ever remember being this furious.
She stared up into his eyes, startled. And horrified? Or disgusted? He didn’t know. His vision had blurred at the edges. His head was so turned around with the need to hurt her like he’d been hurt while hating himself for feeling that need. And all while wanting . . . needing to drive inside her, feel her around him, make her moan with pleasure, hear her call his name as she came.
“Really,” she said with a strange inflection that read like indifference, but which seemed to cover something else. “Well . . . I don’t think it worked.”
Her hand pushed between them and slid along his erection. Mitch sucked air. His mind exploded with neon flashes of color. Sensation flooded his body, coiling and flexing muscles automatically.
“Because . . . what’s this?” She curved her fingers around his length and stroked him with brutal friction. Mitch’s mouth opened, but his throat closed around the sound that should have come. His head dropped back as pleasure burned through his lower body.
“You’ve been fucking the wrong people.” Her dark whisper sounded just before her teeth clipped the skin at his throat. “You should be fucking the person you want out of your system.”
By the time blood returned to his brain, she had his boxer briefs over his hips and on their way toward the floor. Mitch realized she’d just conned him not only into making a confession he’d never—ever—intended on making to anyone, let alone her, but she’d gotten him so worked up, fucking her until neither of them could think or breathe was all he could see anymore.
Other than his stupidity. And his gullibility. And his weakness. Those all glared.
She hooked one strong, smooth leg around his hip, a taut arm around his shoulders, and lifted herself up his body with ease. Mitch gripped her waist to balance them both. “Halina—”
Her lips brushed his as one hand returned to his cock with one long, slow stroke downward before pushing his head along her wet opening. Front to back. She bit his lower lip gently. Brushed his cock again. Back and forth, deeper and deeper, her hot lips hugging his head. Her wetness licking him like a tongue.
“Ah, Christ,” he scraped out, completely absorbed in the way she touched him, handled him.
His mind veered toward the condoms in his wallet. Toward the uncomfortable thought of leaving her to get one. Of the possibility that this would all evaporate in the five seconds that would take.
Which his big brain knew damn well would be a good thing . . .
Another brush of his cock, even deeper. Her body closed around his head, snug and hot, wetting him, the way she used to tease him with her mouth.
Don’t . . . Don’t . . . Don’t . . .
Don’t blow it . . .
“Goddammit, Halina.”
She centered him, then let go and tilted her pelvis, pressing his head fully into the lush heat between her thighs. Joined by her sweet voice going dark and dirty with, “Fuck me if you want me out of your system.”
Mitch completely lost his mind, every thought disintegrating in the explosion of heat. His arm clasped hard around her hips and he thrust. The reluctant parting of her body mingled with a gasp from her throat and the arch of her back. And God, that was so hot. He would have said so but he could barely breathe. Speaking was out of the question.
Her body immediately clamped back down. A tug of frustrated confusion pulled a growl from his throat. He needed more. He needed to be buried. He needed to explode deep inside her. Mitch backed out and thrust again. The anticipation of her surrounding him . . . went unrealized. Again.
“Fuck.” His brain resurfaced only long enough to figure out what the hell he didn’t have right: the tight squeeze of Halina’s eyes and the way her shoulders bunched and her breaths came in short, shallow pants of pain . . .
That’s when the ultra-tight feel of her hit him in a totally new way and he realized the hot velvet fist of her body was two sizes too small for him. A streak of panic burned across his brain. “Ah, Jesus, Halina . . .”
He pulled back, regret thick in his throat.
“No.” One hand dropped from his hair and rounded his back, pulling him in. “Don’t stop. God, Mitch, please. Please, don’t stop.”
Holy fuck. Lust speared his groin, surged to his muscles and pushed his hips forward. Hard. His cock drove deeper. Her swollen, soft tissues squeezing him again. The unspeakable pleasure crashed through him like a storm wave.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t come, dammit.
Padres suck. Zero-six loss against . . . against . . . who?
The high-pitched sound Halina choked back jerked him from the edge of climax far better than the thought of his beloved Padres’ losing streak, because it wasn’t a sound of pleasure.
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, hating himself. Hating his lack of self-control where she was concerned. Hating the wild way he wanted . . . needed . . . had to have her, which had only ended up hurting her.
“Hali . . . fuck. Why . . . didn’t you . . . tell me?” he asked between breaths. Confusion made him roll his forehead back and forth on her shoulder as if that would help him think clearer. “It wasn’t . . . like this . . . before . . .”
“Yes.” Her fingers loosened in his hair and her body slowly released tension. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while Mitch helped keep them both upright by pressing her to the wall with his weight. “In the beginning.”
His mind worked in fragments—a thought, gone, nothing, another thought. The realization that she hadn’t been with another man in so long it had changed her body flooded him with thoughts he couldn’t process, emotions that overwhelmed him, realizations that both answered and created questions.
Fix this, Foster. Goddammit. Turn it around.
Halina lowered her head, took his lips, slipped her tongue between them and found his. Mitch sank into the kiss on a greedy moan.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered between kisses, lips, bites. “I need it, Mitch. I need you. So badly I can’t breathe. I need it the way only you give it.”
“You . . . make me . . . insane, Hali.”
“Come on, baby.” Her urgent rasp, edged with such wild need, boiled his blood. “Give it to me.”
Impatient, her thighs gripped his hips and pulled. His cock speared her body.