The noise and bustle of the people on the street was gone. It was just us, the gravel walkway and some seagulls. This was crazy. Why did I allow him to pull me along like I had no say in the matter? I flushed because I already knew the answer.

Eventually, we were far enough down the alley that we couldn’t be seen by anyone. He stopped, turned me to face him and then walked toward me, crowding me until I had nowhere else to go and my back hit the wall. He stopped about a foot away from me, and dropped his briefcase on the ground. I looked down at his briefcase, in an attempt to break this invisible connection between us, an attempt to make sense of what Jeremy made me feel.

He took my briefcase from my hand and our fingers touched. I sucked in a breath at how alive I felt at the contact. He looked into my eyes again at the sound of my indrawn breath, and he dropped my briefcase next to his in the gravel. I looked up at him, wary now. I was afraid of the way my body reacted to him, and underneath that I was angry and hurt that he hadn’t told me the truth.

Don’t be a hypocrite, Rose.

“Rose,” he said softly, as he leaned forward and put one hand on the wall next to my face. I closed my eyes as a wave of longing washed over me. This was awful, terrible, and I was having the hardest time fighting it.

You can’t have this. You can’t have him. You know this. So why are you torturing yourself?

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were last night?” I whispered with my eyes closed, unable to address the real issue for the very first time in my life. I was desperately afraid of his reaction.

“I was…surprised. I barely had time to register it before you ran out,” he replied, his eyes not quite reaching mine as he reached out and put his right hand on my hip just below my waist, gripping my hip-bone gently. He rubbed the waistband of my panties through my skirt and I was shocked at the intimacy of it. I was fully clothed, but keenly aware that he knew what was under my suit. If I had been standing there naked I don’t think I would have felt more exposed.

Suddenly, I didn’t care that he was the new D.A., or that I was supposed to be angry with him. I just wanted this, whatever this was with Jeremy, to happen again. I looked up at him and watched him staring at my lips again. I had my hands next to me, open and pressed up against the wall behind me. He was only touching me with the hand on my hip bone. He started gently squeezing my hip, opening and closing his hand and I shivered as I felt his touch down in my core.

“Jeremy,” I whispered, not understanding why he had this power over me but unable to fight it.

“I don’t care who you are, Rose,” he whispered back. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I wanted you to stay last night, and I never want a woman to stay.” His body was still a foot away, and I wanted it closer. But I still had some modicum of composure left; I figured I would just be a passive participant in what was about to happen. Because I knew it was going to happen. My heart thundered in my chest the closer his lips came to mine, and I closed my eyes when his breath hit my mouth, in wait for this to begin.

“I’m not going to ask if you want this,” he whispered just before his lips grazed mine, back and forth, slowly. It started as a “Hello, how are you,” kind of kiss, but that lasted all of five seconds, when at the same time we both tilted our heads to take the kiss deeper, and it was as if we had kissed dozens of times before. Because we had.

Our mouths opened and his tongue touched mine, and I felt it in the marrow of my bones. His tongue slowly, slowly swept against mine, over and over again, until I was glad the wall was behind me so it could prop me up. I reached out with one hand and grabbed the back of his dress shirt under his suit jacket just above his belt, and I made a fist, balled up the fabric and pulled him closer. He groaned as his body pressed full into mine, and I realized that I was already wet. And that he was already hard.

I kept my hand on his lower back and lifted my other hand to the back of his neck. It was warm from the sunlight that beat down on us, and I slipped my fingers through the back of his hair. I closed my fingers, tugging slightly. His hand on my hip started to move, and his thumb made slow arcs inward, each stroke closer to my heat. I ached and my breasts were desperate to be touched, even though they rubbed against his chest already.

He took his other hand away from the wall beside my head and gently grabbed the back of my neck. He angled

my head in such a way that the kiss suddenly turned much more passionate. We were no longer holding anything back. I moaned as his tongue stroked the inside of my mouth over and over again, leaving all attempts at bantering seduction on the sidewalk.

I tried to pull him toward me even more, and he dragged his hand from the back of my neck to the front, and then moved it lower so it rested on my collarbone just above my blouse. I knew he could feel my thundering heartbeat, but I didn’t care. I felt his as well through his chest touching mine. I put both of my hands at the small of his back and pulled in, creating a delicious friction between his hardness and my softness. He groaned again and started to grind against me slowly and gently.

I never want to stop kissing him or feeling his body against mine.

Wait a minute, what? I couldn’t believe that entered my mind unbidden, and I pulled away from his mouth, resting the back of my head against the wall. He didn’t pull back though, so our labored breath was in each other’s faces, which ironically made the situation almost more erotic than the kissing had been. Our bodies were still pressed together and pushed up against the wall, but I tried desperately to get my bearings.

What had happened? Why had I responded to him that way?

“I can’t do this,” I said breathlessly.

“Yes. You can,” he replied, inexorably.

“No. I can’t,” I insisted, as I closed my eyes again and tried to block out the sight and feel and smell of him.

“Why not?” he said, as his hand on my collarbone started to wander south.

“Because,” I said, as I grabbed his wandering hand in mine. “I don’t date men. I fuck them. We fucked. It’s over.”

Chapter 7

He had no outward reaction to my blunt speech. He simply looked at me, so I shuttered my eyes and expression as best I could with him pressed up against me. He said nothing and I got the impression he didn’t believe me.

“You’re a prosecutor. I’m a defense attorney. I have my reasons for not liking prosecutors, and I’m not going to share those reasons with you,” I continued as he remained silent, his breath in my air; it messed with my head. “This can’t, and won’t, happen again. Understand?”

My excuse was an obvious lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth. It would kill me if this beautiful, confident, strong man saw me…as a monster.

“No, I don’t understand,” he said forcefully, as he continued to press me up against the wall. “We didn’t fuck last night. I’m still trying to figure out what it was, but it wasn’t fucking.” He sounded almost angry. He took a deep breath.

Tags: Alyse Zaftig Paranormal
Source: readsnovelonline.net