said as I pried her boots off and chucked them over my shoulder. Those goddamn boots. "Never once in life has that been sexy."
"And yet you'll enjoy it when I do it." I crawled up her body, yanking the blankets out from under her as I went and cocooning us under them. I dropped my weight onto her and found her lips again. "You'll let me do that, Tara. You'll let me and you'll love it."
Chapter Eight
Tara
"You'll let me do that, Tara. You'll let me and you'll love it."
Such a Drew thing to say. He didn't even bother asking the question. Once again, he'd decided how it was going to be and issued the memo announcing it without bothering to consult me.
Oh, and I was on my way to naked while he made those decisions—and Drew Larsen was the one actively involved in getting me naked. How the pinstriped fuck did that happen?
As best I could recall, there was my graceful dive into the snowbank followed by a rant about Drew's great big bossy boss tendencies and all of that was capped off with a kiss that rendered everything else in the world irrelevant.
There were his lips, his tongue, his beard, his hands—and I wasn't worried about my job, wasn't busy loathing him, wasn't even frigid and soggy anymore.
I was a woman-shaped throb of desire and Drew promised to fulfill those desires for me. All I had to do was figure out what I wanted—and let him give it to me.
It was more than consent, it was more than the sex, the orgasm, the intimacy of it all. It was accepting that kiss he gave me, the one that knocked all sense and reason from my head, served as a time-out, a truce.
I just didn't know if I could accept this cease-fire after he'd made my life a living hell for years. We hadn't been rivals for this trip or the past month—it'd been months and months and months of snapping and snarling and cutting each other down.
Could a kiss really wash it all away? Was I willing to let a kiss wash it away?
"Say yes," he whispered to my neck. "Please, Tara."
Part of me knew this was a terrible idea. Another part of me knew it was the only idea.
"Maybe," I conceded, my lips pressed to the sharp line of his bearded jaw. "But don't get any ideas about bossing me around. Don't think you're going to explain any of this to me. In fact, I'm going to fuck the arrogant bastard out of you."
He reached between us, flipped open the buttons at my waist, and yanked my pants down. "Seems like a big goal, Miss Treloff. You sure you're up for it?"
"So. Fucking. Arrogant." Those words were barely over my tongue when he fisted my panties and ripped them down the middle.
He didn't deserve the triumph of the desperate gasp that move garnered and when his hand slipped between my legs, I couldn't stop the next gasp.
"You don't always have to fight me." He pushed two fingers inside me and we groaned in unison when his thumb met my clit. "You could just shut up and let me destroy you, Tara."
Never had anyone spoken to me the way Drew did—in and out of bed.
"Yeah, I could let you do all the work," I said as the sounds of his belt unlatching and his fly unzipping buzzed over my skin. "But we both know you only concern yourself with your needs when you do that."
He leveled me with a glare before pulling my sweater over my head and tossing it aside. My bra followed, then his shirt. There was nothing left between us—nothing but some low-simmering animosity.
"You're so fucking wrong," he whispered as he lowered his lips to my nipple. He gave me two teasing licks and then a bite that felt like a brand. He stroked his cock over my folds, his breath shuddering on my breast. He leaned into me, his throbbing length right up against my opening, and said, "I'm gonna show you how wrong you are."
"This isn't one of those situations where you need to narrate everything, Drew," I said as his thumb worked my clit hard. "I understand you like the sound of your voice but—" Holy fuck, the head of his cock was so thick. Ridiculously thick. Abnormally thick. That wasn't his dick. It had to be his arm, a knee, maybe a tree trunk. "Ohmygod."
He bit my nipple again, chuckling. "What were