Broken Hearts (Hearts 2)

“Poppy.” That was all I said. Her name. But it was full of my intentions toward her. My wicked depraved intentions.

She stood to face me, breathing deep. Her nipples beneath the borrowed shirt she wore were hard, and if I got my hands inside those sweatpants, I’d find her drenched. For me. For this.

I could smell it in the air.

“You don’t scare me,” she whispered, though a little bit of her was lying.

“I should.”

“You’re going to give me some big speech about how you’re going to hurt—”

I cut her off with my fist in her hair. She gasped, going up on her toes. My desire was a tidal wave. An onslaught. “Say stop and I’ll stop.”

Her eyes went wide as if she was just understanding what she’d signed up for at this moment. And then I kissed her, open mouthed, my hands in her hair, holding her still. I plundered her. I sucked and bit and she let me. She bit back. Her tongue was in my mouth and her hands were around my waist, tangled in my shirt, holding onto me.

“Stop,” she panted, and I stopped. My mouth a breath away from hers. The only things moving were my heart pounding my chest and my blood filling my cock.

She licked her lips. “Just checking.” She grinned at me and I pulled her up and against me, refusing to laugh. Refusing to admire her. To fucking like her.

I rubbed my thumb over her lips, prying my way inside. Not that she refused me. Not that she had one single defense. “Suck,” I whispered, looking into her eyes, daring her to look away. But she didn’t. She looked right back at me and sucked on my thumb. Biting it with her teeth. “I’ve got twelve hours to fuck you until I don’t give a shit about you.”

She jerked back, shaking her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Silent, I stepped back until the backs of my legs hit the chair. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her down on her knees. Her hands settled on my thighs. Her lips curled into a smile that was going to be the death of me.

“I know you,” she said. “And I know how you like to play.”

“You think this is a game?” I asked and she nodded. I sat down in the chair with her kneeling between my legs. “Undo my pants.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ronan

The words were barely out of my mouth before her shaking, cool fingers wiggled under the edge of my shirt, undoing the buttons of the jeans and lowering the zipper. I shifted, letting her pull the pants down so my cock sprang free.

She glanced up at me and I saw her nerves. I saw her sweetness. And the selfish asshole in me wanted to keep it. Have it. I wanted all that sweetness to be mine forever. And fuck, she thought she wanted that too. She thought I was worth saving. Worth giving herself to, and that was a temptation I never thought I’d have to battle before. But I knew who I was, and I knew what her life should look like. It didn’t include the likes of me.

“Can I . . . I mean, do you want . . . ?”

“Your mouth on me? Yeah, I want your fucking mouth.”

The touch of her lips blew my head off. She ruined me in a breath. In a touch. Her soft hand wrapped around my cock and her mouth slipped over the head and her tenderness was all wrong.

I put my hand over hers, tightening her fist around me until the pleasure was part pain. She watched me with her dark eyes and then smiled at me.

“I like it that way too,” she whispered. Hard, she meant. Rough, she meant. Like I didn’t know how she liked her pleasure. And I was glad she had the nerve to say it because maybe she’d say it to the next guy and they’d have a shot—

Fuck. No.

I went blind with rage. With a territorial instinct I could not control. The thought of any other man getting to see her on her knees in front of them was unacceptable. As much as it was undeniable.

Mine.

She reached between my legs, her nails scraping across the sensitive skin of my balls and the inside of my thighs. She reached up under my sweater for the naked skin of my chest. She ran those nails across my nipples. Hard enough to hurt.

My laughter was a dark growl in my throat, the animal in me taking over. I wrapped my fingers in her hair, clenching my fist. She gasped, tilting her head back, her throat such a beautiful fragile arch.

And her smile. Her fucking smile. I’d go to my grave thinking about that smile. Knowing and innocent all at once. She was every dichotomy, endlessly fascinating.