Chapter 11 #2
Easing off from the mind-shattering pressure, he looks at me with a serious expression. "Do you have the written offer anywhere?"
I shrug a single shoulder, "Probably in my office down the hall."
As terrified as I am, deep down I know he's probably even worse. He's missing so much time. And if one of the few leads he has to follow is our minuscule interactions, I can't even imagine what it's like to be living in his head right now.
"I wish I could be more helpful," I tell him honestly. "But we weren't anything to each other."
He laughs again, shaking his head incredulously, "Fucking hell."
"Sorry," I offer.
"Nah, don't be. It's for the best, really. It wouldn't be fair if you remembered our first kiss and I didn't," Cormac teases, staring at my lips intently.
For a moment, my brain scrambles to keep up with what he's saying, then it stops working altogether when his warm, soft mouth meets mine. The firm, commanding pressing of his lips sends shockwaves through my system, leaving me frozen until I can think somewhat clearly.
A surprised, furious gasp escapes my lips, and my hands come up on instinct, landing on his chest to push him away.
Before I can put any effort into shoving him, his tongue swipes against my open lips, the taunting touch both a dare and a plea.
It can't be any secret that I'm attracted to him even though I'm equally terrified.
My body's obvious reaction to his nearness spurred him on, even if I hadn't silently allowed his explorative, decadent touches.
My brows furrow, every part of me at war, my rational mind not wanting to give in, but my entire body screaming that we should, that nothing and no one will ever feel this good again. It whispers that my need for something darker has led me here, even if I didn't know this was where I was headed.
A frustrated whimper slips from my mouth, and Cormac's answering smile brushes against my mouth as he holds me captive with the kiss.
His hands find their home cradling my face, firmly directing me as his lips force mine apart and his hot tongue slips against mine, the deep, slow slide forcing my mouth open obscenely, slanting our mouths together as he burrows inside of my fucking soul with his tongue.
A groan radiates from his chest that I can feel from my fingertips pressed there all the way into my core.
His kiss wholly possesses me, leaving my muscles languid as if I've been drugged, unable to push him away or pull him closer.
Another filthy slide of his tongue forces me to moan, and he swallows it down, emboldened by my reaction.
His mouth devours mine, the hot muscle pressing between my teeth over and over, dragging more pathetic, needy sounds from me until I lose myself in this touch that I swore just a moment ago I didn't want.
His hips push into mine, and the evidence of how affected he is by the kiss sends another hot spike of need into my pussy. He groans again, grinding his hard cock into the soft flesh of my hip, so close to where I need it but not close enough to really feel him.
Suddenly, he pulls away, holding my face captive, staring down at me with heat blazing in his eyes and an almost arrogant smirk on his kiss-soaked mouth.
"So you're telling me," he licks his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he stares unabashedly at mine. "It wasn't like this before? That my touch didn't leave you as soaking wet as you are now?"
There's no point in lying and pretending I'm not. There's no denying that I'm a fucking livewire and drenching my panties, my body aching for more kisses, more harsh fingerprints laved into my skin, more of his dick pressed against me, and just more.
Through heaving breaths, I shake my head.
"Why?" he asks, dropping one hand to my hip, using his other to angle my head so he can place soft kisses against my jaw, working lower until his hot breath against my neck leaves me shivering.
"What changed? Because right now, these pretty tits are begging for my attention, and fucking hell, I can only imagine how much your cunt is crying for me. "
I stutter out a breath, closer to a whine than any other sound, "I don't—"
I don't like talking about the night in question. The one in the photos. That was the worst night of my fucking life, and even though Cormac was the best part of it, he wasn't even close to the most memorable.
"Boyfriend?" he suggests before grazing his teeth against the sensitive flesh beneath my ear.
My sharp inhale and sigh are followed by a brief nod, wishing at the very least that he'd stop talking about it. Having his hot mouth against my skin while reminding me of that night is causing emotions that are... tumultuous, to say the least.
"Not anymore, I hope," he chuckles against my skin before sucking it between his lips, dragging another pathetic sound from my throat. "I can't imagine he'd be very happy to know you're moaning and drenching your panties for a psychotic killer."
"Not anymore," I confirm, not offering anything more than that.
"Good." The single syllable is harsh. Final. Gritty and commanding.
He doesn't care about my relationship or how it ended. Doesn't care about any of the bullshit that came of it.
Leaning back, his gaze slowly circles my face as if he's cataloguing every slight change from the rush of desire he's caused. I can feel the heat in my cheeks and chest, my frantic breathing, and the heaviness of my eyes.
And he drinks down every single drop of my expression, admiring it as if at any moment, it could disappear.
"Bring the offer letter next time you come by Mingle, yeah?" he asks against my lips before placing a final, brief kiss on them.
"What?" I ask, frozen.
A vicious grin pulls at his kiss-swollen lips, "I left another bottle in the fridge if you don't trust the one I opened."
"You're leaving?" I ask.
"What, you want me to stay?" He teases. "I thought you were calling the police."
Shaking my head frantically, I try to extract myself from his body, "No, that's not what I—" I clear my throat. "I could go find it now, then I don't have to bring it by."
With a knowing smile, he releases me, placing my phone on the counter.
"Nah. This gives you an excuse to go back.
In fact, I'll help make it easier on you.
If you don't bring it to Mingle this weekend, I'm going to come back here to find it.
Maybe even when you're sleeping. And given how sweetly you react to my unwanted advances, I might take it upon myself to steal more than a kiss next time. "
With the threat in the air, he steps away, taking the handful of long strides it takes for him to exit my apartment, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his delicious cologne, the wine on the table, and me scrambling to determine if avoiding Mingle is worth the risk that ignoring him would invite.
Nevermind that my skin pebbles with excitement at the thought of either option. Seeing him in his own domain, his little kingdom of depravity, or giving him implicit permission to return and make good on his threat.
"Fuck," I mutter to myself, running my fingers through my hair. My eyes land on the bottle sitting on my counter. "I shouldn't."
I do anyway, just another in a line of bad decisions I'm certain is going to get longer.