McCabe
She leans against the partially open door of her hotel room, her arms crossed over her stomach, as she asks, “What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s one way to congratulate me on the win tonight.” I hold up the pharmacy bag with one hand and push the door open with the other. “I got you something.”
Backing into the room as I step inside, AJ looks up at me with a lifted eyebrow. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”
“Seemed prudent not to stand in the hallway where anyone could see me.” As the door clicks shut behind me, I hand her the paper bag.
She reaches into it and pulls out a small glass bottle. I’m not one hundred percent sure it’s the same one she had, but it’s a glass bottle with a black lid like the one I saw in the picture.
“You . . . got me makeup remover?”
Is it my imagination, or does she sound touched?
That thought pisses me off, because replacing something she accidentally broke feels like such a minor thing—yet I don’t think she’s ever had someone to do that for her.
Not a guy, at least. I’ve never wanted to punch her ex-husband in the fucking face more than I do right now, and that’s saying something.
Setting the bag aside, her eyes meet mine, and I see the war raging in her gaze. She doesn’t want to want me here, but she does.
I understand the feeling completely.
I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t be here with her. It makes every single thing about my life more complicated, and I don’t do complicated. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to convince myself that I don’t want her.
And now, I’ve decided to stop trying.
If she doesn’t want me in return, she can be honest about that, and I’ll respect her decision. But I’m pretty sure we’re in the exact same boat here.
“Would you like me to leave?” I ask her.
She works her lower lip between her teeth like she’s considering my question, and I step closer.
“You need to stop doing that.” My voice is low, almost feral with the longing that courses through me at her proximity. No one else has ever made me feel so damn needy, so desperate for her attention and affection. I would have thought I’d hate this feeling, but I don’t hate it. Not at all.
Her look is coy as she releases her now-glistening lower lip. “Doing what?”
I turn toward her, and she takes a step back, right into the wall behind her. The quick grunt of pain she lets out as she winces reminds me that her entire back is bruised.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I say, pressing my hand against the wall next to her head as I lean in. “Are you okay?”
“McCabe.” Her voice holds that warning tone that turns me on. “You shouldn’t . . .”
“Be here. I know.” My throat bobs as I swallow, and her eyes focus on the motion, but she doesn’t respond. “Tell me to leave.”
As she glances up at me this time, her tongue darts out, running along the line of her upper lip, but still, she says nothing.
I lean in closer, my face a breath away from hers.
“You smell like beer,” she says.
“That’s because I just had a few with the guys to celebrate our win.” I trail the bridge of my nose along her cheek until my lips reach her ear, relishing the way her breath catches. Dropping my voice even lower, I say, “Tell me to leave, AJ.”
Her responding whimper has my entire body wanting to press into hers. But I’m not going to kiss her up against a wall without an open invitation to do so.
Not even when her hands rest on my chest before sliding up to my shoulders. Not even when she toys with the hair at the back of my neck. Not even when she parts her lips and sighs as she meets my gaze.
“Or tell me to stay.”
One way or another, I need this woman to put me out of my fucking misery.
“Stay.” The word is so quiet it’s practically inaudible.
“Say it again, Sunshine. Nice and loud, so we’re both clear that you want me here.”
“Don’t be a dick,” she says, her fingers tightening in my hair and holding me in place when I try to step away.
“I’m not being a dick,” I assure her, as I wrap my hand around the back of her neck while my thumb strokes the space where her jaw meets her ear.
“I want to make sure that there’s no miscommunication at all.
Because once is an accident, but if I stay here with you again tonight, it’s not an accident, and it’s not a mistake. It’s a choice.”
Her sigh is stuttered and halting, like the magnetic pull we’re both experiencing makes it hard for her to even exhale. “We shouldn’t . . .”
“I know we shouldn’t.” Dipping my head back toward her, I graze my lips over her forehead. “But are we?”
She tilts her head back against the wall and focuses on my face. The pink spreading across her cheeks, the ragged breathing, the way her eyes are practically black with desire . . . everything I’m seeing tells me she’s feeling exactly the same way I am.
“Yes.”
I don’t know who moves first—we’re tangled together so quickly it’s impossible to tell.
But her lips part instantly as she lets me invade her mouth, her tongue slanting against mine with utter possession.
This is no languid kiss; this is the release of pent-up longing that’s been locked away for far too long.
I know how long I’ve wanted her, but this makes me wonder how long she’s wanted me back.
She moans into my mouth as she presses forward, her entire body flush with mine.
Bringing both my hands to her waist, I anchor her against me, pressing my cock into her stomach as my fingers slide up her sides under her shirt.
I run my thumbs along the waistband of her shorts, while the tips of my fingers toy with the seam of her bra.
I’m so keyed up I feel like I might explode as she moans into my mouth again. When I pull back, breaking the kiss and giving my body a few inches of distance from hers, her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
My voice is raspy when I say, “I need a second to breathe, to collect myself, or I’m not going to be able to take it slow.”
She lets out a small huff of a laugh. “What in the world would make you think I wanted you to take things slow?”
“AJ . . .” I move my hand so I’m cupping her face in my palm as I give her the reminder we both need. “You’re injured. The last thing I want to do is hurt you more.”
“How about you let me be the one to decide what kind of pain I can endure? Because sometimes . . .” Reaching down, she cups her hand over the zipper of my pants, and as my balls tighten up, I’m afraid I’m about to embarrass myself. “. . . a little pain is . . . just . . . fine.”
Holy shit.
“Well, I was going to take it easy on you, but sure, we can do things your way . . .” I slide my hands under her ass and pick her up so fast she gasps, laughing and wrapping her legs around me as I step into the bathroom because that’s got the closest horizontal surface.
She’s always beautiful. But a laughing Alessandra Jones? She’s unbelievably gorgeous.
I set her on the counter, next to the sink, then step between her legs as I unbutton my dress shirt.
In the pale glow of the light emanating from behind the large mirror, she watches my every movement carefully, like she’s trying to memorize everything about my body the same way I did with her this morning while she slept.
When I toss my shirt on the floor outside the bathroom, she reaches out to undo my belt, then shakes her head when she remembers that one of her hands is splinted.
I take that arm by the elbow, raising her hand to my lips.
“I’d never have wanted you to get hurt like this.
Never. But is it wrong that I’m the tiniest bit grateful that it led us here? ”
“I don’t know yet,” she says, her voice breathless. “Why don’t you take your pants off and make it worth my while?”
My chuckle fills the entire bathroom as I set her hand back in her lap. “You literally can’t wait to get me naked.”
Defiance takes over her face. “Don’t tell me the same isn’t true for you.”
“Oh, Sunshine, I’ve been waiting for you for a fucking decade. I could wait longer . . . I would wait longer, if I had to.”
Her lips part with a soft sigh. “Why do you have to keep saying things like that?”
“Because they’re true.”
“Ronan . . .”
God, I fucking love it when she uses my first name.
She stares up at me like she doesn’t know what she wants to say next, so I plant my hands on either side of her and lean in close.
“Yeah, Sunshine?”
She clears her throat, and whatever sentimental thought she was having disappears. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”
“As are you,” I say, then grasp the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it over her head and carefully sliding it over her injured arm after she’s pulled her head and her other arm through.
Beneath it, she’s wearing a nearly sheer bra with underwire cups.
There’s a ribbon of lace that runs from the center, across each breast, to the strap, and beneath it, her nipples are so hard they’re pulling the lace away from her skin.
Hooking my thumbs under the fabric, I slide the cups down under her breasts so those pretty pink nipples are exposed, rubbing the rough pads of my thumbs up and over them.
She’s biting her lip as she moans out her pleasure, and her legs come around behind me, circling my waist and pulling me to her.
Dipping my head, I trail my tongue across one of her nipples while I continue toying with the other, then suck it into my mouth with a long pull that elicits another deep moan. Moving to the other side, I repeat the motion as she tilts her hips up, grinding her center right along my cock.
“Fuck,” I groan as I pull back and take her in—how her nipples are wet and glistening where I hold her tits in my hands, the way she’s anchored herself to my dick, how she’s panting with longing. “You look good when you want my cock.”
She glances down at where our bodies meet. “And you’d look a lot better without those pants on.”