Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,15
feel as unsteady as these damn shoes. God, he was sexy.
Hiccup.
And he’d been the best kisser.
Hiccup.
And his hands had known just how to touch me, just the right amount of pressure to use on my nipples. Hands that, I was sure, had only gotten more talented in the twelve years that had passed.
Hands that needed to find their way out of my head.
I wasn’t here to be touched or to think about being touched. I wasn’t here to feel any pleasure at all. I wasn’t here to remember how much I missed Garin, and I couldn’t miss him when I left. I’d have one more drink, go back to the hotel alone, and sleep for a few hours before I got on the plane.
Hiccup.
I wiggled my panties back up my legs, ignoring the wetness that had soaked into the fabric. Wetness that Mr. Hands had caused. Wetness that needed to dry and not be added to.
The automatic flush roared behind me as I stumbled out of the stall and washed up at the sink. The lighting showed my eyeliner had smudged a little, giving my eyes a sultrier look. My hair had loosened out of their curls and was wilder than normal. I didn’t bother to tame it.
Hiccup.
When the restroom door shut behind me, someone moved right in front of me and gripped my waist. It took me a second to connect the arms to the hands and the chest to the arms and the face to the neck. But, when I finally made it all those inches above me, I realized they belonged to Garin.
I shivered. “You’re so cold,” I breathed. The tingling was now back in my chest. “Why are you so cold?”
His icy glare didn’t stop the wetness. It was still on my panties. But I wasn’t drunk enough to mention that part.
“Because you still haven’t given me what I want.”
He was holding me so tightly. I didn’t mind. I should have. I should be pushing my way out of his hold and returning to our table. But I didn’t. It had been so long since a man had really held me. I missed the feeling of a pair of strong hands. Hands like Garin’s.
I missed him.
“Were you waiting for me?” I asked, ignoring what he’d said.
He took more of my weight, making my body feel even lighter. The thumping, the tingling, the wetness—I wished I could give him some of that because it was becoming unbearable.
“Garin?”
His hands moved up my sides, over my shoulders, and cupped my throat. It was already hard to breathe. This made it worse. But the hold he had on me was so sexy. It was like a punishment for what I had done to him.
“You like this,” he whispered angrily over my face.
I closed my eyes and let his statement simmer through me. He didn’t phrase it like a question because he obviously already knew the answer.
“What if I squeeze harder? Will you like that just as much?”
It was a threat. One that I liked more than I should have.
He didn’t wait for me to respond before he tightened his grip. Air was stuck in my lungs. Fear was pulsing through me—not because I was worried he would hurt me, even though I should have been, but because I was worried I was on the verge of telling him the truth.
“Yes,” I finally replied. “And I want more of it.”
My mind showed me what more felt like. It took me back to that night in his bedroom when he’d kissed me for the first time. I’d had zero experience before that moment. Garin had plenty, and I found that intimidating. So, before I’d gone to Garin’s that night, I’d taken a few sips of vodka from the bottle I’d found in my freezer. I’d wanted him, and it was time to finally tell him.
Vodka was now running through my body, but that was where the similarities ended.
Now, there were secrets between us.
And lies.
And years of anger over me leaving Atlantic City.
And coldness.
I was lost in a wind of dark memories and guilt, and it was all thumping inside my chest. His eyes were tearing through me, and I was losing the ability to keep it all hidden.
“Kyle…” His grip tightened once again, bringing me back to him. Bringing me back to the feelings his hands caused. Bringing me back to the tingling and wetness.
“Yes?”
His thumb grazed the base of my neck where my pulse hammered away. His eyes told me the