as a cop’s wife. I assume we’ll fuck once or twice, at least, then part ways after that. I don’t do relationships.”
“Do you tell that to all the girls?” I croak, feigning confidence even though my face is on fire.
“Don’t have to.” He adjusts his grip to palm my waist with both hands. “They know it. I don’t exactly present myself as the settling type.”
“You sound so proud of yourself.”
“I am,” he admits, licking his lips. “Because I don’t feel the need to be anything else. And you, bunny, like that about me. It’s why you keep on hopping around.”
I try to pull away, but he follows. “You like that I don’t play nice,” he goads against my scalp. “Because, deep down, that’s all you really want from me. You just won’t admit it out loud. A few quick fucks before you hop merrily on your way. I’m not offended, though. You were right. Girls like you only want one thing from guys like me.”
“Nothing,” I hiss. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Wrong.” He steps back, but his arm flexes to draw me with him. Impatiently, he pushes through the other dancers, dragging me along until I’m crowded in against a wall. His bulk alone is a prison that bars me from view and traps me here.
“You do want something from me,” he declares, bracing his hands on either side of me, his mouth dangerously close to mine. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I was curious,” I spit, barely aware of the words spilling off my tongue. “If you really were that desperate.”
He frowns, his jaw clenching. “Oh?”
“Desperate enough to think that I’d ever be attracted to you.”
I know the barb hits home merely by how he stiffens, but he doesn’t release me like he should.
“Oh, really?” He lunges instead, and our lips slam together without warning, teeth gnashing. It hurts, but he effortlessly tilts his chin and takes charge. Swiftly, his tongue comes like a battering ram, prying my lips apart to force its way inside.
Making me choke on my taunt.
I start to bite down. I want to. My teeth clip the topmost edge of the invading flesh, but he’s too quick and draws back. I don’t even have the chance to gasp for air before he returns, shoving me against the harsh brick wall in a way I can’t avoid, pressing his mouth to mine.
The assault hijacks my hardwired instincts, and my body reacts to him all wrong. I feel my head fall back and my lips part. Rather than recoil, I grab him, letting my nails taste the flesh beneath them, so hard he flinches with a groan. At this moment, I should feel powerless. Instead, my heart is surging, my pulse racing. I feel…reckless. Unstable. Unmoored.
The way he kisses me is dangerous. He doesn’t want to scare me, dominate me, or control me—he just wants me.
To touch and toy with as he pleases. To taste, letting his tongue probe so deeply, I fear he’ll choke me. But at the last second, he nips my lower lip instead until I jump. Squirm. It’s sadistic. He makes me dance for him in this way, utilizing his body to electrify mine. My reprieve comes only when he stills against me, his nostrils flaring.
At the same time, his fingers grasp at my hips. My waist. Higher…
I gasp as he cups my breasts in both hands without permission. Squeezes. Kneads. Something in his touch makes it harder to panic like I should. Maybe how his fingers shake? They twitch, alluding to some indecipherable quality my brain struggles to name—Possession.
It’s the only way to describe how he lazily tests my weight over his palms, stroking me with the very tips of his fingers, all the while gauging my reaction. My lips flutter apart, but he returns his mouth to mine before I can choke out a command to stop. It isn’t long before I realize that this kiss is different from before—more teeth than his tongue. More pressure, more of his weight against me, driving my skull against the wall. Punishing. Polarizing.
And I fail to make him stop. My body rebels, quickening my breathing to match the unsteady pace of his. I writhe into his touch, goading him on. Craning my neck to feel his mouth on mine, roughening the contact. In response, his touch grows firmer, and his tongue probes hungrier.
It’s like some sick, twisted game. Grunting, he shifts his weight, grinding his pelvis over my own to craft a