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Chapter Seven
The next morningI head down to the gym again. I tell myself that I would go anyway, but if I’m being honest, I’d admit I’m going because there’s a chance I might run into Dane. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t, but my mind is full of the kisses we’ve shared and the near misses we’ve survived. Like an addict seeking their next fix, I need my hit of Dane.
The Devils are still holed up with us, although I haven’t seen either Dane or Dax since yesterday morning when Dane and I nearly kissed. I wish he had pressed his mouth to mine and taken what he wanted—given me what I needed.
I move over to the treadmill and start the machine up. I’m about three kilometres into my run when movement catches my eye. I glance around and see him standing off to one side of the room, looking delectable.
He watches me with shrewd eyes, his arms folded over his broad chest as I hit the stop button and slow the treadmill down before it comes to a stop. Then I step off the back.
“I’m starting to feel like you may be following me,” Dane says with a hint of sparkle in his eyes.
I pull my phone out and open my text-to-speak app. I quickly type my message and hit play. “I like working out in the morning too.”
Lies. I’m a night owl. I had to set my alarm to get up, which Sofia was not happy about.
His eyes travel up my body in a way that has me internally squirming. “I like you working out in the morning. You make my day start a little brighter.”
Heat infuses my cheeks. I don’t usually embarrass easily, but Dane makes me feel his words deep in my soul.
I watch as he strides towards me, and my breath quickens. I know I’m panting by the time he’s standing in front of me, and I can’t stop myself. I tip my head to look up at him and I’m greeted with those dark brown eyes that I can’t help getting lost in.
“What game are you playing, little one? Do you want me or don’t you?”
I need to answer him, but my hands are frozen in place.
He tilts his head to the side. “Do you want me to kiss you, Mackenzie?”
I swallow hard and then I nod. I want him to touch me, to take me and to stop tormenting me.
I don’t care about the danger or the reality of what letting Dane take me might mean. All I care about is the desire pooling in my belly, demanding I take what I want. My heart rate starts to pick up its pace.
His lips tug into a grin as he steps closer into my space. His hand moves to my cheek, cupping it, and I lean into his touch like a desperate, needy idiot. Dane’s eyes scan my face as his hand moves into my hair, threading through it before settling at the back of my nape. Then he tugs my hair, pulling my head back. It’s not a hard gesture, nor is it soft, but I can barely breathe as anticipation crawls over my skin. I want this man. I want him so much. I don’t care that he’s older, that he’s not a Saxon. All I care about is the fact that I want him.
He pulls me to his chest and his mouth moves inches from mine, our breaths mixing as he traces across my lips with his own—not touching, but so close I can feel the brush of him as he moves. I want him to move forward, to take what he desires, but I’m so mesmerised by his actions, so lost in the thrill of what is about to come, I can hardly think straight.
Then he bridges the gap between us and his mouth touches mine. Instinctively, my lips close around his and adrenaline floods my veins. There is nothing soft about the way he kisses me. He devours every inch of me he can touch, taking without apology.
His stubble scrapes across my jaw, adding to the already heady sensations flooding me, and for a moment, I imagine what it would feel like brushing against my pussy. The thought makes wetness dampen my underwear.
He tugs my head back further, granting him better access to my mouth and he continues to take me like a love-starved man. I want him, I want everything he’s offering and more.
When his tongue licks along the seam of my mouth, I part my lips to grant him access inside. He takes with the confidence I would expect of a man like Dane. There’s no stuttering, no hesitation—just a man determined to have his fill.
When his tongue dances with mine, my legs seem to lose all ability to hold traction. It’s only Dane’s grip on me that stops me from folding like wet tissue paper. He pulls me against his hard chest and I go willingly, my hands snaking under his arms and up his back to hold him close. Every synapse in my body is firing on full and I feel overwhelmed by the sensations washing over me.
When he finally pulls free of my mouth, it’s only so he can come up for air. He heaves in a breath and scans my face, looking for what I don’t know, but I figure I probably look blitzed right now. I am. I’m love-drunk.
“You okay?” he asks in a soft voice.
I nod and smile, a little dazed.
The fire is still raging through me.
He doesn’t release his hold on the back of my head, nor do I move to release myself. I don’t want to lose his touch.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you again,” he says, and my good mood dissipates.
I stare at him, hoping I convey how annoyed I am by his words.
