“I can’t explain right now,” I said, trying to shut down the conversation, trying to sidestep her to close the compartment before Dax showed up, but she blocked me.
The rattle of feet above announced the arrival of my partner and Jada. Dax could not see the cash, especially after our talk the day before. I’d absolutely denied working for the Kyōdaina.
As the footsteps came closer, I panicked, and I did yet another stupid thing in a slew of things I’d done over the last few days that were not wise. Violet was a genius. I was a raving moron, because I yanked her to me and put my lips on hers.
I dragged us both toward the seat, pulling her so that we fell with her sitting in my lap, our bodies blocking the piles of money. I tangled our limbs together, knowing that Dax, being the gentleman he was, would back away.
“Dawson—oh, well. I’ll be up top,” Dax said and withdrew just like I knew he would.
But the problem was, my lips were on Violet’s, and once the moment of panic had passed, all I could feel was a deep hunger and yearning crawling through me. Years of wanting this. Years of wondering what she’d taste like, feel like, sound like.
She tasted like sweet champagne. Like the most expensive vintage Dax had ever served me. Gloriously perfect. I lost myself in that moment, her soft, plush lips moving against my firm ones. Her hands found their way to my hair, tugging, pulling, drawing us closer instead of pushing us apart as they should have.
When her tongue darted against my lips, a groan escaped me from the deepest reaches of my soul that she returned with a moan of her own. I let her in and met her plunder stroke for stroke, seeking the depths of her, pulling her until her slight frame was locked against my large one. Soft to hard. Curves to stone. One hand went to the back of her head, the other to her waist, pushing at the sweater so I could feel the warmth of her skin against my calloused and scarred fingers.
Kissing Violet was everything I’d ever dreamed it could be but also all of the torture. Because as much as it felt goddamn right for our bodies to be joined together, lips and tongues, hips and hands, I knew it was wrong.
No good to the core.
I wasn’t supposed to touch her this way. To have her this way.
She was my little genius savant who was going to save the world.
She wasn’t ever supposed to be mine.
Violet
ALWAYS
“Hey, love,
My first love,
My last love,
I can't stop looking for you.”
Performed by John Legend
Written by D. Lewis / W. Lewis / J. Lewis
Dawson was kissing me. It was painful and glorious and yanked my soul out of my chest, gifting it to him one more time. It was everything I’d ever dreamed it could be, lighting me up like the burning sensation of dry ice, clouds of smoke vaporizing around us, combusting with the air. What had started as a stunned lock of lips turned into an inferno that had been held back for way too long.
The formulas were writing themselves in the air so fast I couldn’t keep track, and I finally gave up trying. I concentrated, instead, on his tongue as it ravaged my mouth and his hands that squeezed the skin at my waist. My body burst into tingles starting from the top of my head and traveling all the way down to my toes, lingering at my core, sending an ache through me that would never be healed unless Dawson was inside me.
I’d landed sideways in his lap when he’d pulled us down, and I turned to straddle him. My entire being lined up with his. Not just skin and bone, but the inner recesses of me. The hidden away, locked-up parts I’d never let anyone else see.
When I rubbed my core along the erection I could feel in his jeans, he froze.
He pulled his tongue and his lips away from mine and flung his head back on the seat. But all it did was expose the long, tan skin of his throat. The stubble peppering it acknowledged he hadn’t shaved before he’d ducked out of the penthouse early this morning.
I leaned in, kissing the column, tasting the essence of him. Sea and salt mingling with pine and a hint of woodsy smoke that was as deep as his