He was like iron. Cold, impenetrable. But she was hot enough to melt him, she was sure of that. She was made entirely of rage, and need, a red, molten thing inside of her that couldn’t be contained anymore. It was too big for her, and too destructive.
So, he was going to have to have some of it. He was going to have to carry some of it inside of him, so he could be burned just as she was. Why should she be the only one?
She parted her lips, tracing the seam of his mouth with her tongue. And that did it. On a growl, he wrapped his arms around her, the shock of being surrounded by him, overtaken by him, momentarily immobilizing her.
It was all he needed to assume control. And assume it he did. He slid one hand up her back, pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, the hold possessive and intense. A shockwave rolled over her as she tried to reconcile the years spent with so little touch, broken by this force of contact that rivaled anything she had ever felt before in her life.
His stubble was rough, his cheek scraping against hers as he took the lead, changing the angle yet again, forcing her lips apart even further, his tongue sliding against hers in a sensual echo of the verbal sparring they had just been engaged in.
He was so hot, so big and hard, the extreme of absolutely everything. The epitome of masculinity, making her feel tiny and delicate and a whole host of things that she would normally hate to feel. Somehow, he made it all seem okay. He made it seem right.
Somehow, he made her savor that feeling. Being small, being held. Being helpless to do anything but submit to the power of his touch, the absolute and complete dominance of his kiss.
He pulled back from her for a moment, then returned, cupping her face, holding her head steady as he tasted her deeper, taking the kiss to a place that was so hard, so hot, she thought it might destroy her completely.
Her knees went weak, and she started shaking, a hollow sensation beginning to expand deep and low in her stomach. She ached. All the way down. And she needed... She just needed.
She arched against him, and he stood firm, as unyielding as granite. But she liked that. Very few people stood firm against her. For fear of breaking her, or for fear that she might break them. But he did. He stayed hard, and he gave her something to launch herself at, and she had no idea how much she needed that until now. Had had no idea just how much she needed to go up against the side of a mountain.
Gage West was most definitely her Everest. And right now, she wanted to climb him all the way to the summit.
He growled, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip before he went back again, and again, tasting her deeper and deeper with each pass of his mouth over hers. And she was lost in it. Completely consumed. And why not? She had been lost in the fog that he’d caused for so many years. Why shouldn’t she get lost in this one?
Suddenly, he pulled back, pushing her away as he did, releasing his hold on her completely. He stood there, his chest rising and falling sharply, his eyes hard, his dark brows locked together. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t you mean what the hell were we doing?” She would be damned if she accepted his anger for this.
“What the hell do you want?” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken.
“I thought—” she cleared her throat “—well, I thought that maybe you could at least treat me like a woman. Since nobody else does. And it’s your fault.”
“Is that what you want? You want to trade for sex?”
His words were like a slap. They were also her fault. Because she was the one who had led the conversation, hell, the entire interaction, down this road.
“Don’t,” she said.
“You said I owe you. I owe you sex?”
Anger made her mean. “Sure. Why not? Or is that a step too far for you? You’ll give me a building, but you’re not going to pity fuck the girl you scarred for life?”
“No,” he said.
She shouldn’t be sad he was turning her down, because she wouldn’t take him up on it anyway. She didn’t want his pity. And she didn’t want to sleep