Wicked Ever After (Wicked & Devoted 2)

“Pierce…” she panted.

“I’m not going anywhere. You got a yes or no for me yet?”

“Just kiss me again.”

“If I do that, pretty girl, I’m going to get inside you and fuck you hard. All night. I won’t stop. If you’re going to say no, say it now.”

Her breathing stuttered. Her thoughts churned.

Then she licked her lips. And finally, buttoned-up Brea closed her eyes and offered him her pretty pink mouth, swollen with sin. That was an invitation he couldn’t turn down.

He grabbed her chin. “Last chance. You saying yes?”

Brea’s heart beat wildly as she blinked up at Pierce. The air was thick, tense, silent except for their rasping breaths as he waited for her answer.

She hesitated. She shouldn’t consent. She shouldn’t want him.

Even if Cutter didn’t love or desire her, he would be disappointed that she was weak to the sins of Pierce’s flesh, especially during their engagement. Then again, he wasn’t in love with her, and she doubted he was spending his nights in California alone. And it wasn’t as if she could get more pregnant.

Her father would be dismayed that she hadn’t kept her promise to distance herself from Pierce for even two weeks, much less a whole month. But unlike Daddy’s high school girlfriend, the man she loved hadn’t left her because he’d gotten bored and wandered into the arms of another. Not even close. The minute he’d learned about her engagement to Cutter, he’d come after her—hard. And he clearly wasn’t letting up.

Because he still loved her?

“C’mon, pretty girl. What’s it going to be?”

She shivered, just like she did every time he called her that.

Was she being stupid? Impulsive? She’d let him undress her and touch her. And Brea couldn’t be less than honest with herself. Even if they’d resolved nothing, she ached for Pierce. She wanted him.

“Heaven help me, but I can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah?” His fingers bit into her jaw as a dark smile crawled across his mouth. He laved his way up her neck and guided her lips under his again. “Then get ready to scream.”

Before she could so much as whimper, he took her lips with a muffled groan, tasting potent and wicked and wonderful. The moment she yielded her mouth to him, he tightened his grip, demanding she give him more.

Right or wrong, sin or not, Pierce was exactly where she wanted him.

Brea clutched his steely shoulders under his black formfitting shirt and let her fingers roam his strong, broad back. Then she wriggled and swayed to entice him closer as she lost herself in his dizzying kiss.

Everything about him made her feel female—sensual, adored, vulnerable. Every time he came near her, her skin awakened and her heart raced. She ached. Even now, she was acutely aware of his shirt sliding slickly over her sensitive nipples. The rough cotton canvas of his khakis abraded the insides of her thighs. She wrapped her leg around his calf and slid her toes against the thick leather of his combat boots as she lifted her hips in entreaty.

“Fuck,” he growled as he ground his thick erection right where she needed him most. “Every time I get my hands on you, all my good intentions go out the window.”

She knew exactly what he meant. Until he’d barged into the beauty shop, she’d meant to put him out of her life and walk the straight-and-narrow for her baby’s sake. That meant marrying Cutter. That meant giving up on love. But every time she found herself near Pierce Walker, she got weak and all her good intentions ended up paving her road to hell.

He toed off his boots, fisted his shirt at his nape and tore it free, then dropped his hands to his fly. As he unbuttoned his pants, his knuckles brushed the aching bud between her legs. She let out a breathy, pleading groan.

He focused his black eyes on her, then raked merciless fingers through her folds. “Oh, fuck. You’re wet and swollen.”

Approval roughened his voice. Pleasure jolted her.

But when he settled his thumb over her throbbing button and rubbed, bliss became wrenching torment. Her breathing turned choppy. She bit her lip to hold in a cry. “You do that to me.”

“I’m not even a little bit sorry. You arouse the hell out of me, too, baby. When I look at you, every shred of IQ I have rushes down to my cock. I don’t care that you make me stupid. I’ll do anything to fuck you.”

That shouldn’t warm her or make her feel so wanted. But it did. She loved his single-minded focus on her pleasure.

No, he hadn’t talked about tomorrow or being a part of his baby’s life or anything remotely practical. But when he slid a pair of his big fingers inside her and rubbed at a sensitive spot, her eyes widened, her breath hitched, and she let go of everything except her undeniable attachment to this man who literally held her in the palm of his hand.