Searching for Always
“I’m tired of hearing about how beneficial anger management is. I want to talk about a more important subject.”
“Pinky?”
“No. I wanna talk about sex.”
She shook in his grip. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and damned if she hadn’t lost her ability to tell him to move out of her space.
Because she didn’t want to. A strange heat loosened her muscles and made her sluggish. Her belly tightened. Her panties dampened. Oh, she’d been turned on before and was no stranger to arousal, but this was different. With other men, she chose. With him, it was as if her mind disengaged from her body for the very first time and she had no control.
The words shot like a bullet and made her jerk. Those cruel lips tipped downward in a sneer. “Let’s talk about this attraction we have for each other and what we’re gonna do about it.”
Arilyn was way past yoga breathing and now tried to gulp for air. “Nothing. We do nothing. There is no attraction, and you’ve proved your point. I bow to your testosterone need to control all situations. “
He leaned in. The crisscross scar hooked into his brow. Even his eyebrows were strong looking. Full and dark like his midnight hair, which was free from his usual ball cap and spilled all messy and sexy around his ears and forehead. Individually, his features weren’t remarkable. His nose hooked to the left, a sure sign of past fights. His cheekbones were high. Jaw square. Skin on the fair side. But together? He was devastating—the Black Irish look that made women weak in the knees, on the edge of civilized, yet not. Would his goatee be rough and scratchy, or silky smooth if she touched it? And why did his lips look soft, when his features were chiseled from stone?
“Damn, you’re hot. Too bad you’re also a pain in the ass and completely wrong for me.”
She bared her teeth, more comfortable with the punch of anger that flooded her system. “Good, because it’d be a cold day in hell before I’d pick you as a boyfriend.”
“How about a lover?” His breath rushed warm over her lips.
She opened her mouth to tell him this little scene was now over. Instead, the denial tumbled from her lips. “You’re my student. We need to keep the boundaries appropriate.”
His thumb brushed her lips, as gentle and light as a feather stroke. “That’s just an excuse and you know it. You’re not my official therapist. There’s no hard-and-fast rules about a six-week course.”
She stumbled over her next denial. “I don’t want a lover. I need three months to cleanse properly from my last relationship.”
“What if I can help?”
She managed to snort. “Oh, I know how you want to help.”
Stone chuckled, tracing the outline of her lips. She tried hard not to tremble and show weakness, but the melty sensation in her stomach grew worse, and when she tried to squeeze her thighs for relief, she only managed to tip him off that she was aroused. Sweat pricked her brow. She would not lose this battle. If she kept strong, he’d back off and they’d be able to finish the six-week course in harmony. She needed Officer Stone Petty as a sexual distraction as much as she needed a neighbor like Mrs. Blackfire.
“I have a proposition,” he drawled. “One kiss. Let’s prove to each other we’d be a disaster together.”
“I don’t need a kiss to confirm you’d be a nightmare to deal with,” she shot back. “You’re an ex-smoker, workaholic, anger-ridden, meat eater cynic.”
His fingers moved to caress her cheek, the line of her jaw, up to her temple. Little brushes of tenderness, contradicting the raw strength and power in those hands and body. Ready to crush her but choosing gentleness. The lust rolled over her in waves, and she fought back with all her power.
“And you’re a tree-hugging, naïve, post-world hippie with a God complex,” he retorted. “Vegetarian, to boot. Plus a hardened criminal.”
Arilyn growled under her breath and dug her nails into his shoulders with fierceness. “You know nothing about me, Officer! I am not naïve.”
“Stone. Now shut up.”
His mouth took hers.
She planned to fight back and give him everything she got.
And she did, but not in the way she planned.
The moment those blistering-hot, soft lips met hers, she lost it. Swamped by the delicious scent and taste and feel of him, she arched upward and opened her mouth for more. He muttered something dark and dirty, and slid his tongue past her parted lips and beyond.
Then he showed her who was boss.
Oh, he kissed her with all the hard passion and lust she always dreamed about but never inspired. With her past lovers, she got tender, slow lovemaking, and poetic words murmured in her ear. Moves were coordinated like a beautiful song, and though she was satisfied, and emotionally full, there was an ache deep in her body that never felt completely fulfilled.
She’d thought something was wrong with her and happily ignored that part of herself.
Until now.
Stone Petty owned her. Possessed her. His tongue took what he wanted and demanded it all, with each thrust and complete deflowering of her mouth. He reached around and sunk his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat and keep her helpless beneath him. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest, his erection notched between her open thighs, and he ravished her body and soul, leaving nothing behind but an aching, horrible want for more.
She exploded with her own demands, turning the kiss into something much more. Whimpering, she opened her mouth wider, arched her body up to rock against his hardness, and dug her short nails into his scalp.