Page 69 of Chicago Sin

Offense cuts swift and deep, straight through my chest. I thrust my chin up. “That right? Well why don’t you just say it then? Say whatever it is we’re not coming back from. Make your threats and be done with it. Then you can leave. It would be a whole lot easier for both of us.”

He stands there a minute, conflict dancing over his face. I swear the room spins around us, like in those movies. And then his hand snaps out and captures the back of my head. His lips crash over mine. It’s a juicy, lusty kiss because I give it right back.

This is what we do best. Our relationship may be a sham, communication is a joke, but we know this dance. I assume that’s why he went for it. Just like I kissed him that first time when he was wondering what to do with me.

Do this.

This is what we do.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t release my head. “Is that what you want, Hannah? You want me to go?” Misery seeps out of him. A hint of desperation. He’s holding my gaze like my answer will make the moon orbit.

“No,” I admit. That’s the last thing I want.

He pulls my mouth to his again and consumes me in a searing kiss. I kiss him back, my lips opening and closing against his, tugging on his.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks when our lips part. “Someone shot up my place last night, and I’m paranoid as shit right now. I shouldn’t have yelled. Especially at you.”

My eyes round even though I suspected it was something awful like that.

“I don’t want you scared.” He shifts the hand behind my head to cradle the side of my face and runs his thumb across my lower lip. “I want these kisses like it’s the end of the world. Fucking you like our lives depend on it.”

A wave of heat crashes through me.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now. I’m on the verge of losing my fucking mind. But it’s you holding the key to my sanity, Hannah. You.”

I freaking love the way he rasps my name. I initiate the kiss this time, pressing my breasts against his hard muscles. “Like our lives depend on it, huh?” I murmur when I come up for air.

He pushes me back against glass doors and closes the shades again. His hands are everywhere, stroking down my sides, squeezing my ass. I lift one leg to wrap around his waist, and when he shifts to put his forearm under my butt, the other one wraps too. He presses me against the window, knocking the blinds to thrust the bulge of his cock between my legs.

He dances his lips across my collarbone, and then stops to find my ear with his teeth, catching me with a shorter, sharper nip than before. I feel it all the way to my core. His voice is low and throaty, his words sending a sexy vibration through my ear. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. And kissable. And fuckable. I want to bend you over right here, right now. I want to shove you up against this window and fuck you until you scream.”

I’m too breathless to answer. I can’t think of anything to say. “Do it, now, I need you.”

His hand moves from my ass to my hip, and then around to my stomach, his fingertips pressing hard into my skin. “I want to watch you come from behind. I want to watch your sweet little pussy take my cock. I want to fuck you for hours.”

“I want it,” I tell him, my throat feeling tight and dry. I want it, but I don’t want it to end. I want to stay here. I want to stay in this moment forever.

He kisses me again, and it’s not gentle this time but urgent, and then he spins and carries me behind the counter to my desk. My ass touches down on the surface. The coolness shocking me back to reality.

Reality.

We’re in the shop. My business. Reality.

“Wait,” I pant. “We can’t keep doing this.”

It’s too much. He’s too much. I’m definitely feeling way too much.

He stiffens. Pulls back. I register the loss of his touch like a shock of cold water. “Yeah.”

I’m immediately sorry for putting on the brakes. I reach for him. “Wait.”

He steps back between my legs and strokes his palm up my bare thigh. His fingers reach the hem of my short t-shirt dress and slip under. Our foreheads touch. “Talk to me, Hannah.”

Talk to him. This is the moment where I show my true colors, and he runs. But maybe that’s for the best. That’s what I need.

“I just…” I draw in a fortifying breath. “I don’t do casual sex. I feel too much, you know? And I get attached too quickly…”

Worst thing ever to say to a guy.