out of his lungs. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to say any of that. But her nearness, this unrelenting need and his hurt had propelled the words off his tongue, and not even God could turn back time to erase the too-revealing confession. Slowly he backed away from her, his narrowed gaze fixed on her face. A face that betrayed her surprise and, heaven help him, resolve.
He walked away. Again. Hell, if she wouldn’t leave, he would. His pride had disintegrated and littered the floor around his feet. What was one more retreat?
Her hand circled his wrist.
And the last, tattered scraps of his control crumbled.
Turning, he simultaneously lunged for her, cupping her face between his hands, tilting her head back. Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding on. Probably to maintain her balance, since he leaned over her so far that her back arched, her full breasts pressing to his chest.
He shuddered.
“Goddammit, Charlotte,” he bit out, lips moving over hers. “Leave now or stay and let me use you to pound out this...thing inside me. I won’t be gentle—I can’t be. I’ll take from you, and I can’t promise to give anything back. I want to feast on you and not stop until we’re too broken to even breathe.” He crushed a hard kiss to her mouth, thrusting between her lips in a quick taste-and-tangle that did nothing to satisfy the craving for her. “This is your chance to walk away now, baby. Because I can’t.”
Harsh puffs of air bathed his lips as her fingers encircled his wrists. But not to haul them away from her face. This brave, beautiful and foolish woman rose on her toes and took the next kiss. Opened wide for him. Allowed him entrance. Invited him to devour.
And on a groan heavy with desire, with demand—with gratitude—he accepted.
From the onset, the kiss consumed. Raw. Carnal. Ravenous. He went wild at her taste, diving back for more, always for more. Each lick, each slide of tongues, each rub of lips and bite of teeth ratcheted the desire consuming him to combustible levels. What was it about her that could transform him into this insatiable animal that was ready to snarl, claw and maul to keep her for himself?
Tonight, the last shred of reason interjected. This was just about here and now. Getting through the night. The only “forever” between him and Charlotte was Ben.
On the tail end of that thought, Ross sidestepped, maneuvering her so she backpedaled toward the couch. Without breaking the mating of their mouths, he guided her down to the cushion. As soon as she sat, he pushed between her legs, cupping her knees and spreading her wider to accommodate his torso.
He broke off the kiss, leaned back and watched his hands stroke up her toned, sexy legs, his fingertips skirting the crease where her thigh and upper body met. Didn’t matter that she still wore her clothes. Her warmth seeped past the material to his skin, and he swore her rich fig-and-sugar scent was deeper, denser...headier. His gaze shifted higher, focusing on the cloth-covered flesh between her legs, and he slicked the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. The source of that scent, that flavor emanated from right there.
And he wanted to gorge on it.
“If you really care about this shirt, you need to take it off now. I won’t be as careful with it,” he advised, raising his gaze from her sex to her face.
Her lips, swollen and damp from his kiss, parted, and a soft gust of breath eased past them. He almost leaned forward to feel that puff of air on his mouth, but he didn’t. Couldn’t risk missing her unveil herself for him.
Silence pulsed in the room, a thunderous heartbeat that nearly drowned out his own as he studied those elegant fingers move to the hidden buttons behind the ruffle that stretched from her throat to her waist. Quickly, she undid her shirt and peeled the two sides apart, revealing another of those sexy-as-hell confections others would call a bra. Pale green this time. Silk and lace molded to her luscious breasts. His mouth watered for a taste. And he didn’t wait for her to shrug completely free of it before bowing over her and sucking a nipple deep into his mouth.
With a hushed curse, she battled the cuffs of her shirt, and he took advantage of her bound hands, cupping one breast, pinching the tip, rolling it while tonguing the other. Her tortured whimper mingled with