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Tucker grips my chin firmly between his forefinger and thumb, then lifts my head toward him. His other hand clings to the back of my neck, preventing me from moving. I can’t get out of his grip. His posture is dominant, allowing no contradiction, but his gaze is worried.
“Look at me,” he orders me firmly. “Look at me.”Are you okay?I can read in his eyes.
My eyes get lost in his.
No, no, I’m not okay.
He seems to understand that. He seems to notice that I am totally disconnected from reality. I need a lifeline, immediately.
So, when he pulls me towards him, when he grabs the back of my legs roughly and pulls me up, when he unceremoniously puts me on the counter and presses himself against me, I let him.
I rush through the escape he offers me.
14. Game Master
Iris
His hand twists in my hair. It settles on the back of my neck again, refusing to let it go. He holds me in place, almost forcing me to accept him, but my body does not see Tucker’s attitude as an intrusion. As my breath mingles with his, my fingers grip his hair.
A silent dominance battle then begins between us. I assert my grip, and he does the same. A dull growl escapes from his chest, then he presses himself a little more against me.
His strategy works. My mind is totally focused on the moment. A warm human shield presses against me from all sides, preventing the darkness from enveloping me.
Tucker shows no signs of letting go of me—if I believe his other hand, which presses down on my exposed thigh and squeezes it unmercifully. The mark of his fingers will remain on my skin, for sure. His lips slide over my ear. I feel his tongue along the earlobe just before it continues its descent and ends in the hollow of my neck.
The sensitivity I discover within my own body should send me warning signals. I tilt my head back as he presses himself a little closer to me, sucking my burning skin between his lips.
This is a really, really bad idea.
I have to back off. Just a second. Just a second, and I’ll stop.
My mantra runs on a loop in my head as I abruptly tug at Tucker’s hair. His eyes meet mine. He looks as lost as I do. But mostly crazy, crazy…with desire? And I’m pretty sure my face must reflect the same expression. I just have to listen to my stupid heart, which palpitates like I’m running a marathon.
Push him away, my conscience tells me. Yeah, I’ll do it…
He doesn’t give me a chance to think. His lips press against mine once again. A furious kiss where anger and frustration are mixed. The arousal is at its peak between us, forming a thin thread, ready to break. At any moment.
But I shouldn’t.
I try to think. Believe me, it’s hard enough when you have an insufferable—but sexy as hell—man making you consume yourself from the inside. My reason calls me to order once again.
I don’t know him. I can’t let him stick his tongue in my mouth. Okay, I want to, but who says we have to let our desires dictate our actions? We all know how it ends. Let pleasure drive you, and you will suffer in some way.
I’ve been through this before, and I have to admit that I’m not ready to go through it again. The pain is far too great when the desire is replaced by the loss of the loved one. Of course, it fades with time and remains only a shadow over our heads. But it never totally disappears…
I can’t let another man have that power over me. Not again. What is happening right now must not go any further. Not under these conditions. I’m not opposed to a one-night stand once in a while. I like to enjoy the male body, the forgetfulness it gives me. It helps me not to think about all the shit that surrounds me and tries to ruin my life.
But when I look into this man’s eyes, I feel like he could be much, much more than just a one-night stand. And that sucks.
My willpower returning to the gallop, I pull my head back. Tucker doesn’t seem to think that way. He presses himself against me a little more, pressing his erection that stretches his jeans directly against my inner thighs. I need all my concentration to ignore it. Damn, this is way too hot.
While he doesn’t seem intent on pulling away, I do the only thing I can think of. My mouth closes, my teeth trapping his lower lip, and I bite. Hard.
A growl comes out of his chest.
“Damn,” he swears.
He glares at me. His so particular glance catches me and won’t let me go. And I freak out, because I think I kind of like that. So I decide to play it tough. I frown and glare back at him.
