I walked a few feet away and then turned to face him. “You are completely deluded right now with what you’re thinking and feeling.”
“No,” he argued, closing the distance between us, flipping my shirt over his shoulder as he took hold of me, his hands sliding over my ribs as he met my gaze. “I may have been confused at first, but it’s been months, you understand? I’ve watched you make yourself at home in my life for months.”
I reached for my shirt, but he batted my hand away and tossed it to the ground. When I looked back at him, his grin was wicked and daring as he put his hand back on me.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I want you,” he said, all playfulness and teasing gone.
“I’m leaving,” I assured him, struggling to take a step back, because Jesus, his hands on me, on my skin, felt insanely good. He was reverent, savoring the touch, but there was also pressure there, like if I went to move, he’d stop me. “And after that, you get your life back.”
“I already have my life back,” he informed me, “and I’ll be damned if you go anywhere.”
“Nick,” I said, squinting at him. “Did you understand everything Mr. Cox told you?”
“Yes,” he murmured, leaning close, kissing under my jaw, causing a shudder to roll through me, making my knees weak. “He has faith in me again, he trusts me, my new label supports me, and the conservatorship is no longer a concern.”
“Yes,” I choked out as he lifted his right hand from my side and slipped it around the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing over my jaw. “You have everything now; the future is wide open and all yours.”
“Oh yeah?” he rasped, and I saw how blown his pupils were, and how he wet his lips, heard his breath catch, and I inhaled the scent of sandalwood on his skin. “The future’s all mine?”
“Yes,” I husked, ready to take a step back.
“You know what I want to be mine?”
“Nick––”
“You,” he said with a sigh before he drew me close and kissed me.
I liked to kiss. I did a lot of it, and I was good at it, enjoyed it and could deliver one that led directly to bed. The thing was, that was on me, my decision, my timeline, my desire. More than that, I had actually never been kissed by someone who wanted me for more than just screwing. First kisses I’d had in the past were from strangers, or people I knew a bit, like Brann, before we hit the sheets. I’d never been kissed by anyone in my life, for the first time, who I had been with day in and day out, who I’d lived with, fought with, worked with, and kept my hands off of for as long as I had Nick Madison. So when his lips met mine and he kissed me, opening my mouth, his tongue thrusting deep, claiming with almost brutal possessiveness, all I could do was let him in.
He knocked me back into the side of the house and kissed me frantically, fervently, the heat building as he took and ravaged, and when I clutched at him, taking him in my arms, my hand on the small of his back, pressing him close, the other fisted in his hair, I heard the moan deep in his throat. I felt his submission and took control, sucking on his tongue, making him writhe in my arms as I turned him, shoving him up against the wall and kissing him hard.
The bite was a surprise, and I broke the kiss, panting, to stare at him.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he growled, his voice all sensual, simmering heat as he stared into my eyes. “Kiss me some more.”
I pulled free, hand on his chest, holding him still.
Those full lips of his were swollen now, and red, curled into a decadent grin. “Come here. I’m gonna kiss you all over.”
I didn’t feel in control, not when he was looking at me like I was prey.
“Nick,” I breathed his name, trying to figure out what I was going to say. He could not waste his health and sobriety on me, I wouldn’t allow that. I was not who he needed, and I wasn’t a permanent fixture in his life, anyway. “Listen to me,” I demanded, brushing his hand away when he tried to touch me. “You have no––”
“All I’ve been doing is listening to you,” he said, giving me a trace of a smile as he grabbed my wrist, and yanked me forward, pivoting at the last second and putting me against the wall.
The power so effortlessly displayed, the manhandling, the way he moved, sent a throb of arousal to my cock that was hard to hide.
“Loc,” he said, having discovered, in seconds, more than I wanted him to know. “I thought maybe, because I see how you look at me, but you never did anything about it.”