Rejection (The Mate Games 2)

“You already are, Caleb. You’re denying fate. That never ends well.”

He growled, a low, tortured sound deep in his throat. “Sunday. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?”

I pressed my palms to his chest and sighed. “Yes, Daddy. It’s the only way to get your attention.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and with a groan that was surely defeat but sounded only like surrender, his lips claimed mine.

The kiss burned through us. Finally, his walls were down, and he was letting himself have what he needed.

Our tongues tangled together as he held me in that bruising grip, dominating my mouth and exerting his control in that long-suffering way of his. His thumb pressed hard against my tattoo, the touch not hurting, but sending a tingle through me and making me gasp.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine and breathing heavily. “I fucking hate that he’s given you his mark, thatthey’veall done it. But most of all, that I bloody well can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I said, tilting my head. I presented him with the smooth, untouched skin on the other side of my neck. A temptation. A gift. An offering.

He shuddered against me and leaned down, pressing his lips to the pulse point I’d just presented to him. “God in Heaven, I want to taste you again. I’ve had dreams about this. About taking your blood and fucking your cunt just likehedid.”

“How do you know about that?” My clit throbbed at the statement even as I asked the question. It was my fantasy. He was my shadow man. But had it been real all this time?

Dark sapphire eyes found mine. “Because I was there. I’ve always been there. But you already know that, don’t you,a stor?”

“I’d hoped, but I wasn’t sure if it was really you. I wanted it to be.” I trailed my fingers down his front, feeling the rippling muscle underneath his shirt, wondering what he’d look like without the fabric covering him. “You don’t have to hide and watch anymore. It can be you and me, right here, right now.”

His breath was ragged as it left him in a rush. He was close, so close to giving us both what we desperately craved.

A knock at the door sent my hope scattering. Caleb jerked against me, his eyes wild with panic.

“Underneath the desk,” he hissed, shoving me none too gently in that direction.

“Father Gallagher? Are you in there? I need to speak with you.” I recognized Professor Moriarty’s voice instantly. He was hard to mistake for anyone else.

Caleb shot me a fierce look that sent me diving under the oversized desk before he sat down, his knees inches from my face. I thought sitting was an interesting choice until I spotted the unmistakable bulge between his legs.

My, my, Father Gallagher, what a big stick you have.

I nearly giggled out loud when I responded for him in my head,the better to fuck you with.

“Come in,” Caleb called. Despite the welcoming nature of the words, his tone was anything but. It soured further when the door opened, revealing the source of our interruption. “Eugene, I told you to stop bothering me after hours.”

“I know, but it’s important.”

“What do you want?” The tension in Caleb’s voice was undeniable.

“Something set off the wards. You were on duty tonight. Why didn’t you alert us?”

“I checked. It was nothing more than a few students fooling around near the wall. Stupid children making stupid decisions.”

Stupid, huh? If he thought shoving me under the desk while he was hard as a rock and tenting his trousers was smart, I’d show him. I ran my fingers across his ankle, grinning when he jerked at my touch.

“We have to do something about them,” Moriarty said, followed by the distinct sound of a cork being pulled and liquid splashing.

Oh, joy, the man was making himself a drink. Maybe I could get Caleb to kick him out before he got too comfortable.

“We are doing all we can. The wards keep the demons out, but the students aren’t prisoners. As foolish as they behave, they are adults. We cannot keep them here against their will.”

As he carried on his conversation, I ran my palms up higher, laughing to myself when Caleb’s hand snaked down and gripped my wrist like a vise.

“Here. It’s rude to make your guest drink alone,” Moriarty said.