Wanted (Most Wanted #1)(22)
Author: J. Kenner

“Frustrated, beautiful?” he murmured.

My head was back, my breathing fast. “Are you insane?” In my head, I was screaming. In real life, I could barely formulate words. “Jesus, Evan. Please.”

He spread his fingers so that now he was teasing the indention at the juncture of both my thighs, his strokes light but firm. And never, ever touching the soft flesh beneath the silk or brushing over my tight, demanding clit.

I struggled to pull my hands free, desperate to finish what he had started. But he held me fast, and I wanted to shout curses, to make demands, to drop down on my knees and beg. But it was all I could do to draw breath as my body shuddered, every nerve, every sensation pooled between my legs in anticipation of a touch that he seemed determined not to give me.

“Please, what?” he asked, as I dragged my teeth over my lower lip.

“Please,” I repeated. “Please everything.”

His low, satisfied chuckle washed over me, teasing my skin with as much sensuality as if he were trailing a feather over me.

“Touch me,” I demanded.

He bent closer so that his breath tickled my cheek. “I am touching you.”

I wiggled my hips in unspoken demand. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said. “But I want to hear you say it.” He drew his tongue up the edge of my ear, and I bit down on my lip for fear that if I didn’t I would cry out in both pleasure and frustration.

“I want—” I swallowed and tried again. “I want you inside my panties.”

To his credit, he complied, and I sighed with pleasure as his fingers stroked my slick, swollen flesh. I was completely bare, having recently discovered Brazilian waxes, and the way his finger slid over my wet flesh was driving me completely insane.

He didn’t, however, touch my clit, and so I had no relief for the desperate, pounding growing need that was building inside me.

I moved my hips, trying without words to let him know exactly what I wanted.

“Demanding thing, aren’t you?” he teased.

“Dammit, Evan, you’re being exceptionally mean.”

“Maybe.” He stroked his finger lightly over my clit, and my entire body lit up. “But I’m damn sure enjoying myself.” He slipped his fingers inside me, and I gasped as my muscles tightened around him, drawing him in. “That’s it, baby. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to be fucked.”

I clenched my hands into fists, managing to gather enough self-possession to say, “You’re just figuring that out?”

He laughed softly, but whatever amusement I’d felt in the wake of my comment faded under the slow, rhythmic assault of his hands upon my body, sliding deeper and deeper, leaving me breathless and anxious and so very, very close.

When he drew his hand free, I actually whimpered, and when he slid his fingertip—wet with my arousal—between my lips, I moaned and took him in, closing my eyes as I sucked and teased, imagining it was his cock in my mouth.

“Dear god, that’s hot,” he whispered. He moved closer, and I felt the press of his erection against my belly, tight and hard beneath the denim of his jeans. “I want you, Angie. I want to yank your skirt up and rip these damn panties off. I want to bury myself inside you and watch your face while you come.”

I said nothing, only drew him in deeper and relished the soft sound of his own, responsive groan.

“But not here—not in an alley.” He drew his finger from my mouth, and my eyes fluttered open. “I’m taking you home. I’m going to fuck you, Angie, but I’m going to do it properly. Say yes, baby.”

I nodded.

“I want to hear it.”

Stupidly, I nodded again. “Yes,” I said, after fighting to regain the power of thought.

“Good girl.” He gave me a moment to recover the ability to walk, then led me toward the street where, I presumed, he’d parked.

We’d only taken two steps toward the intersection of the alley and the street when a shadow fell across the sidewalk, followed quickly by a form that I recognized. Bruiser.

A second guy flanked him, tall and lean, with the kind of sauntering walk that told the world he could beat the crap out of just about anyone.

A shock of panic—hard and fast and cold—shot through me. How could this have happened? I never take my guard down when I’m outside, and sure as hell not in a dark alley. And yet I’d been totally unaware of everything. I’d seen nothing, heard nothing, noticed nothing. From the moment we exited the club, there had been only Evan. I’d let myself go with him—I’d let myself fly—and everything had gone to hell. Fuck.

“He the one that horned in on your girl?” the lean guy asked.

“My girl? More like my slut.” Bruiser aimed his beady eyes at me. “What would your mamma say about you doing the nasty in a dark alley with that son of a bitch?”

“Fuck you,” I snapped. Or, at least, I tried to. Instead, the words stuck in my throat, trapped there when I spied the glint of the knife in Bruiser’s hand. A chill crept over my entire body, icy fingers trailing up my spine. I sucked in air, and tasted salt water. I closed my eyes, and saw blood.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

I didn’t realize that I’d taken a step backward until I felt Evan’s hand closing tight around mine, locking me in place. I froze, taking shallow breaths, trying to concentrate only on the reassuring feel of his hold upon me.

He was order to my chaos, calm to my storm. Fear might have me tight in its grip, but Evan slipped out of its fist like butter. The alley—hell, the whole damn situation—was his to command.

“I think you owe the lady an apology,” he said smoothly.

“Fuck you.”

“I’d really rather not,” Evan said. “Now get the hell out of my way.” His voice was hard, his manner equally so. He took a single step toward them, forcing me to take a corresponding one. I bit my lower lip, then tasted blood. I saw Bruiser’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t make out the words. Though I knew I was looking at this dark Chicago alley, what I saw was the barnacled posts beneath the pier. What I heard was the crash of the ocean against the beach. It was as if I’d fallen into one of my dreams, and I couldn’t fight my way out of the nightmare.

Then Bruiser lunged, leading with the knife, and the sharp pierce of a scream ripped me back into reality. It took a second before I realized that it was my scream, and that in that minuscule amount of time, Evan had released my hand, raised his arm, and managed to block the oncoming knife.