Page 28 of Wild and Wanted

What guy didn’t want to hear a woman he was totally obsessed with confess to a similar obsession?

Placing a finger under her chin, Clay tilted her face until he was looking into her eyes, drowning in her hazy blue-grey gaze, the soft fullness of her mouth only inches away and parted, ready to be taken.

‘How daring?’ he asked.

Her eyes locked on his for several long moments as if she was trying to form the right words. ‘Can you make me forget everything? My career. The record company, my agent, the tour. My… sister?’

Should it matter that she was searching for some kind of oblivion in his kiss? Maybe. But why should her motivations have to be pure? And what the hell was wrong with a little oblivion anyway?

‘Honey,’ he muttered, his pulse a rising crescendo in his ears as his gaze zeroed in on the plump pink softness of her mouth, needing this now as much as Stevie. ‘I can make you forget your own name.’

Clay wasn’t one much for bragging but with Stevie – he knew he could deliver.

He dipped his head then, his lips landing on hers lightly at first, trailing several tiny kisses, drawing another whimper from her throat that throbbed through his blood. His tongue followed next, teasing the seam of her mouth.

‘You taste so fucking good, Stevie,’ he muttered against her lips, sucking in the ragged pant of her breathing as he went back for more, his tongue probing now, demanding entry to her sweet, sweet mouth.

And Stevie did not disappoint, opening to him eagerly, granting him access as her hands slid up his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric, pulling him closer, obliterating the miniscule distance separating them, the full weight of his body pressing her into the unyielding concrete behind.

Clay’s pulse roared as the aching hardness of his cock found both ecstasy and agony in the soft press of her body, and God help him, he wanted to follow the salacious dictates of his body and grind. He wanted to shove his hand into her jeans and show her there was more than one away to make her forget her own name. He wanted to fuck her so good and so well that his name would always and forever be on her lips any time she was with any other guys.

Nameless, faceless guys he already really fucking hated.

Clay’s mouth hunted hers, his head twisting left and right, chasing away the thought of her with anyone else, his tongue sweeping in and tangling with hers to obliterate the image. Kissing her deep until she was moaning and clinging and raising onto her toes as if riding the same frantic need that drummed through him like a torrential downpour. Shifting restlessly against him as if trying to sate her own downpour.

‘Clay,’ she gasped, her voice rasping like sandpaper. ‘I need…’ She panted, puffs of hot air increasing the burn between them. ‘I don’t…’ Another ragged pant. ‘Please…’

Stevie might not have been able to articulate what she wanted but Clay knew – he felt it in the frantic, discordant rub of her and in his own urge to have everything all at once.

Kissing her, stripping her, sinking into her.

With his mouth still plundering hers, finding all the sweet spots, sucking up all her pants, feeding her his own, Clay’s hand slid to her thigh. Lifting it, he bent it at the knee, her inner thigh pressed to the hard ridge of his hip bone, and held her there as he angled his pelvis to align with hers, pinning her to the wall with the rigid cage of his hips.

It took all his willpower not to grind, but if her loud gasp followed by her urgent ‘Clay!’ was any indication, the hard ridge of his cock had hit just right.

‘That okay?’ he asked, his mouth mere millimetres from hers.

‘Okay?’ she muttered, clutching at his shoulder. ‘It’s electrifying. Don’t stop.’

Electrifying… Fuck, this woman and her words. ‘What about this?’ Clay did grind then, his willpower shattered, his cock impossibly hard as he hit the same spot.

She shuddered in his arms, almost keening his name, long and low. ‘Claaaaay.’

‘Good?’ he asked, watching desire slacken her mouth and bliss turn her expression almost ethereal.

‘So. Good.’

‘Not cataclysmic?’ he teased.

She huffed out a shaky laugh. ‘I don’t know. What’s my name again?’

Clay grinned triumphantly but she quickly obliterated it from his face as she ground back, shooting a bolt of lightning straight to his dick. His pulse spiked rapidly as a roaring imperative to devour her washed through his blood. He took her mouth then with an almost savage intensity, his torso pressed to hers, the mad thump of their hearts aligning, beating as a single organ.

She met him tongue stroke for tongue stroke, sending Clay’s brain into a dizzying spiral of lust and need he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put back in the tube. He sure as shit was not capable of stopping. A dozen Electra-esque wild horses couldn’t have stopped him.

Her mother on the other hand…

‘Stephanie?’