Chapter 4
ACE
The door clicks shut, and Adelaide is pulling me toward her, our mouths clashing.
I’m on her before my brain has even finished catching up.
This gorgeous little Omega is pressed to me like she means it, climbing into my space, grabbing at my shirt as if she’s got every right, and fuck, I am loving every second of it.
She’s all sharp breath and attitude, green eyes ringed in dark makeup that’s smudged just enough now to make her look even prettier.
Strawberry-blonde hair tumbling to her waist. And the black choker at her throat calls to me to get my hand around the back of her neck and hold her still while I take my time with her.
She’s so much smaller than me that it’s obscene. A full head shorter, all sass and that smart mouth that never quits, except now she’s kissing me, appearing rather pleased with herself.
Her scent is fucking everywhere in this tiny space.
I caught it back in Seattle, and it’s been driving me insane ever since.
But in here, there’s nowhere for it to go except straight into me.
Mint first, cool and clean, then those floral notes underneath, and right at the bottom that dark, rich thread of chocolate.
Sweet, then not. Soft, then wicked. It gets in my head, under my skin, and every instinct in me sits up and takes notice.
I’m just not giving her the satisfaction of hearing how much she impacts me yet.
I’ve got both hands on her now, one braced at her waist, the other sliding up her side, and I drop my face into her hair for one second like I need it more than air.
Yeah.
I’m done for.
“I like you like this,” she whispers against my jaw, fingers making impatient work of crawling under my shirt, and her voice has changed. Lower now. Less quick little knife, more heat, more invitation.
“Yeah?” I pull back enough to stare at her. “How’s that?”
Those green eyes flash. “Like you can’t hold it together anymore.”
A laugh pushes out of me, rougher than I meant it to be. “Baby, I’ve been holding it together since Seattle.”
I dip my head and put my mouth on her throat, right below that damn choker, and the second I feel her inhale, sharp and helpless, my cock grows harder, if that’s even possible.
“Some of us have manners,” I murmur against her skin.
She laughs. “Is that what that was?”
“Mm.”
I kiss my way up the side of her neck, slow enough to ensure she feels it, and she tips her head back against the wall for me as if she already knows how this goes.
“You loved it.”
“Don’t push it,” she answers, but she’s smiling when she talks, still half laughing, and that sound smothers me right in the damn chest.
Then I drag my teeth lightly over her pulse point.
The laugh breaks.
What comes out instead is soft and shaky and so much sweeter than I was ready for that I have to shut my eyes for a second and breathe through it.
Fuck.
There she is.
That’s the version of her I’ve been chasing since she dropped into my lap and looked at me like she could take me or leave me, all while her body gave away every lie her mouth tried to tell.
My hand tightens at her waist. Not enough to hurt, but just to let her feel exactly how little space I’ve got left between wanting and taking.
I kiss her again, claiming that mouth I’ve been thinking about since the lounge, and this time it’s different.
Dirtier. Hungrier. Less testing. She rises up into it as if she’s been waiting for me to stop being nice, and fuck, I adore the way she kisses with the intention to win.
Her nails scrape against my chest, and she makes these adorable, frustrated noises when I pull back half an inch and make her follow me for more.
“Greedy,” I say against her lips.
She catches my lower lip between her teeth, just enough to sting. “You followed me into the bathroom.”
A laugh punches out of me, low and rough. “Yeah, and I’d do it again.”
Her smile is quick as I kiss down her jaw.
My hand leaves her neck and drifts lower, over the line of her waist, the shape of her hip, learning her through fabric and pressure and heat.
She’s soft where I want her soft, and every time I touch her, she gives me something back.
A hitch in her breath. A tilt of her hips.
A quiet, helpless little exhale she probably doesn’t even realize I’m collecting.
We hit the wall twice trying to find the best standing position. My elbow smacks the paper towel dispenser hard enough to rattle it, and she snorts, laughing into my shoulder while I’m still muttering, “Jesus Christ,” under my breath. I catch the hem of her shirt and drag it up over her head.
She blinks at me, hair everywhere, mouth open, and then she grins.
Fuck.
That grin is going to kill me one day.
I get her bra unclasped with one hand, more instinct than thought, and her brows go up.
“Practiced,” she says.
“You could say that.”
“Sure.”
But she’s distracted now, and I know exactly why. Her eyes darken as I strip the bra off and toss it aside, and she doesn’t cover herself. Doesn’t flinch. Just stands there in that tiny bathroom with her hair a mess and her lips swollen from kissing me, letting me look.
So I do.
I take my time with it too, because I’m a man and she’s in front of me half naked and flushed and gorgeous, and if she’s going to offer me a view like this, I’m damn well going to appreciate it properly.
My gaze drags over every soft, tempting inch of her, the full curve of her breasts that perfectly fill my hands, the tight little rise and fall of her breathing, the way her dusky pink nipples tighten under the cool cabin air and my stare.
I squeeze them, and my cock throbs harder.
She watches me like she understands what seeing her like this does to a man.
She should.
I’m not hiding a fucking thing.
“Your turn,” she murmurs, and gets her hands into my shirt again, more impatient this time, shoving it up my chest.
I let her strip it off me, and I feel her touch everywhere. She finds the scar along my ribs straight away, fingers tracing the line of it once, light and curious.
She doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t make a face. She just touches it as if it belongs to me and then moves on, hands spreading over my chest, warm and flat and somehow more intimate.
That nearly undoes me.
“You’re very composed,” I tell her, because if I don’t say something, I’m going to grab her and prove exactly how discomposed I am.
Her mouth curves. “That’s where you’re mistaken.”
Her honesty goes through me like a shot. “Yeah?” I say, voice rougher now. “Good.”
My hands close around her hips, and I lift her clean off the floor.
She lets out a startled little sound that turns pleased halfway through, arms looping around my neck, legs winding around my waist. We end up at eye level, her breath warm against my mouth, her chest pressed to mine, and this is worse. Fucking unbearable.
“Hi,” she says.
I laugh, because she’s killing me and somehow still making me laugh. “Hi.” The backs of her thighs hit the edge of the counter and settle her there. “Hold on.”
Her fingers tighten on my shoulders while I get her leggings down in one firm pull. She lifts without argument, lets me drag them down and off, and when I drop into a crouch between her knees, just the sight of her leaves me obsessed.
Fuck me.
The scent of her smothers me even more from here. Thick now. Warm and rich and unmistakable, that dark chocolate note deepening into something that goes straight under my skin and settles low in my body like a command. Now there’s no guessing.
There’s just her, open for me, thighs already soft and parted, body answering mine in a language older than words. The glistening line of her offering is bare, and I’m about to lose control.
Primal hunger roars within me.
Mine.
The thought comes in possessively enough to deepen my grip on her thighs.
I don’t say it, but spread her legs and press my mouth to her pussy instead.
The moan she unleashes is so fucking pretty that it nearly knocks me off-balance. Her hand fists in my hair immediately, and I grin against her because there she is—mouthy, bold, all heat and nerve, right up until I touch her where she needs it and she comes apart for me.
I spread her wider with one hand and take my time licking her length, using my tongue to part her lips.
Every instinct in me wants to devour, but she tastes too good for that, and I’m too far gone already, so I slow down.
I savor the little jumps in her breathing.
The way her hips try to roll when I find the right pressure.
The sounds she keeps trying to swallow back as if she’s still pretending she has some pride left to protect.
She doesn’t, and not with me.
I work two fingers over her clit, slowly at first, and she jerks with a broken gasp, nails digging into my scalp hard enough to sting.
“There you go,” I murmur against her, loving the way she trembles. “That’s it.”
She’s breathing fast now, head tipped back, one hand braced on the counter so hard her knuckles are white. Every sound out of her grows less controlled after that. Less polished and more honest.
Fuck.
I drive two fingers into her and curl them, her whole body convulsing.
Her thighs tighten around me, and she tries to hold still, tries to ride it out without giving me more than she wants to, and I feel how close she is in the way her body fights itself.
I press harder, keep my mouth on her, and don’t let up.
She whimpers through her teeth, hand clamped over her own mouth now as she comes, and that nearly does me in all by itself. Watching her try to stay quiet while she falls apart is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.
Her body goes first.
A sharp shake. Then the whole of her comes undone in one long, rolling shudder that hits from her spine out, thighs locking, stomach tightening, a muffled moan trapped under her palm while she trembles hard enough to make me hold her steady through it.