Hearts the Last Beat (Angel Fire #6) - Ellie Masters Page 0,4
overwhelmingly, and unapologetically sure of himself. He takes up space like he owns it, whereas I feel apologetic for existing. That’s what draws me to him the most. His confidence and assurance that he’ll take whatever it is he wants.
I’m not like that, but damn if I don’t find it sexy as hell in a man.
I can’t believe I’m standing here, alone, with him for the very first time. Every time he looks at me, the banked fire in his eyes turns to an effusive blaze. It flows out from him and slams right into me with incredible force, stealing my breath and making me want filthy things.
I am not imagining it. I feel his hunger.
My insides clench and my breath catches. My skin sears beneath the heat of his gaze. My nerve endings sizzle as that gaze sweeps across my body. It’s a powerful force, sinking into me until my soul burns for him.
How can he not feel the same thing?
Isn’t it odd how we’ve never been alone? I moved in nearly a year ago, yet we’ve never been in the same room together without someone else also present.
How can that be?
How many nights have I dreamed of putting my hands on him?
Now that I have, the desire to run my hands up and down his body overwhelms me. I crave him with a crazy desperation and hold back a moan with the greatest difficulty as I imagine what it will feel like when he kisses me.
When he slips inside of me.
When he joins our bodies and rocks into me with a cadence set to meet only one goal.
That familiar, and agonizing, ache pulses between my legs. My breasts tingle and are heavier than moments before. My entire body reacts to his presence, instinctually preparing for the inevitable union of our flesh.
I’ve obsessed before, but never with this gnawing ache.
I’m not making this up, right? It’s not a silly fantasy? I lick my lips and wonder how a man like him kisses.
What will those piercings feel like on my mouth and lower down, between my legs? I can’t help it. I ache in the worst possible way.
He has to feel this weird energy buzzing in the air, crackling in the space between us, infusing the air we breathe with the promise for so very much more.
Or am I making it all up? Again?
How many times have I lusted over him, only to convince myself later that those feelings were achingly one-sided? I always managed to convince myself he felt the same longing, but day after day, week after week, and month after month, Spike avoided me.
To say this past year has been torture is an understatement. Adding the sexy, brooding Spike into the mix only complicated things.
This crazy, intense attraction I’ve been dealing with cannot be one-sided. I know this for a fact now. The proof is right there between us.
He’s hard for me, and all I did was touch his chest. With his thin shorts, there’s no hiding what’s beneath them. And holy hell, he’s packing. Not that I’m an expert in dick sizes. I’m curious by nature, and hello, there is the internet. I’ve done my searches like any other living, breathing girl on the planet.
“Don’t what?” I drag my gaze upward, moving over washboard abs, a broad chest, powerful shoulders, to the ticking muscles of his jaw.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?”
He releases my wrist and takes two steps back. Spike spins around, fingers stabbing into his spiky black hair. I love the way his hair glistens in the sunlight—raven dark and mysterious, like the rest of him.
“Because this is wrong.” Spike takes a step, moving away from me.
It takes a moment for what he says to settle in. Then it hits me like a punch in the gut. My confidence soars.
“You feel it, don’t you?” I take a step toward him. “You’re attracted to me.”
“I’m not.”
“But you’re…” Not comfortable saying it out loud, there’s no mistaking his current, aroused state.
“Hard? Aroused?” He glares at me. “Is that what you want to say?” He glances down at his dick, and my gaze follows. His eyes cut to me. “I’m a guy. I get hard when the wind blows. Doesn’t mean shit.”
My heart trips on a beat, and I waiver on my feet. Cutting and harsh, I don’t understand his anger.
“You’re being mean.”
“You think this is mean?”
“You came down here, looking for me, getting…” I wave toward his groin.