It sounded so crazy, so far-fetched, but the way his teeth clenched and his jaw went hard made me glad to share it with someone who wasn’t going to just dismiss my concern.
“You have no idea who it could be?”
All I could do was shake my head. He just stared at me for a second before disappearing and coming back with a pair of tweezers. I wasn’t looking forward to this part, but having his hands on me was distracting, and being this close to him, breathing him in, was a sensual treat I wouldn’t ever typically be awarded.
“Keep your arm straight.” He took my hand and put it on his shoulder before sinking down on his knees in front of me again. He was so pretty. I just wanted to touch him, to pet him and stroke him all over. I vaguely wondered if he got away with all he did just because it was impossible to fight against the pull of all that magnetism.
I curled the edge of my fingernails into the cords of his neck when the tip of the tweezers started poking around the wound. I swore, clamped my teeth down hard on my bottom lip, and tried to stop from screaming. It hurt, really hurt, even though he was moving slowly and trying his best to do as minimal damage as possible. I tasted blood, heard him say my name, felt the burn of peroxide, and then his mouth was on top of mine.
His hands were in my hair. His tongue was twisted and turned all around my own. I was pulled off the toilet and onto his lap as he fell back with a dull thud against the wall. Race wasn’t a small guy, and the bathroom wasn’t exactly roomy, which meant I was all over him and the towel I had been using for minimal coverage was a thing of the past. I was very naked, very on top of him. His rock hardness and the sharp sting of the tile against my injured knee barely registered because all the parts of me touching all the parts of him were hot and tingly and things like cuts and scrapes didn’t matter. His chest under the thin material of his white wife-beater was strong and warm. I wanted to curl into him, fall into him, and put everything else I was always holding on to down. As dangerous as he was for me to get tangled up with, feeling him, pressing into him, made me feel safe, and had security floating around my head in such a heady way that I practically mauled him trying to get closer.
I tunneled my fingers through his hair and heard him groan into my mouth. If he was going to adopt the habit of kissing me senseless every single time he felt I needed a distraction, I was going to have to make a point of getting out of sorts around him more often. I felt his body react underneath mine. Felt him get even harder through the layer of denim separating us, and his hands got tighter in my hair. There was always an edge to Race, a razor-fine line that lurked behind all that Midas glow he possessed that hinted at a stronger core, a wilder side to him that I think he kept out of sight from the rest of the world. He was so much more than a disinherited rich kid, had so much more going on than being Bax’s partner in crime, but it was so easy to be blinded by his sheer beauty and suave manner that I think all the facets to him were easily overlooked. Right now, with his hands getting a little rough, his breath rasping in and out, and his eyes glinting all hot and dark, there was no mistaking that he was capable of doing really bad things to me . . . God, how I wanted him to do all of them.
He pulled back a little and slicked his tongue over the full curve of his bottom lip. That gesture alone could have made me spontaneously orgasm, but he trailed his thumbs along the edge of my jaw, used the edges of his palms to tilt my head back a little, and leaned forward to kiss me softly behind the ear. His mouth was indulgent, sucking, tickling, and knew every single secret spot I seemed to have. I was shivering so hard and whimpering in such a needy way, I had to do something to stop myself from coming apart in his hands like a cheaply made toy. He was handling me like he owned me. Like he had been doing it forever. Like he wanted to give me back everything I had given away in the last year, and I was going to start crying again if I didn’t do something with my hands or with my mouth.
I pressed forward, bent down so I could seal my mouth back over his, and kissed him with all the desperation, all the fearless anticipation, I could feel swirling around in the tiny space with us. I had never been locked in such a passionate embrace, been so turned on and worked up in such an unromantic setting, but none of it mattered because Race’s touch was electric and everything about him and me just seemed to HAVE to happen.
I used my teeth to nip at his lip, swirled my tongue across his, and breathed him in and out. I clutched at his silky hair and tried to refrain from grinding on the erection that was becoming more and more persistent where my legs were spread wantonly across his lap. I wasn’t a sexual dynamo or a shrinking violet. I was just a normal girl with normal needs, but something about this guy made my head go crazy, made my blood go hot and fiery, and I wanted to do things, say things that I had never even thought of before. That was the danger of Race, always making me want what I couldn’t and shouldn’t have.