Say You're Mine

by Diane Alberts

  “Wait, what?” Her heart traitorously picked up speed. “Do you…do you want to be with me again?”

  He stared at her, his jaw flexing. “Do I ever?”

  “No.” She swallowed, cursing herself for even thinking he might be saying that. Way to make herself look like a fool. Plastering on a smile, she added, “But that doesn’t make you a bad guy. It just makes you one who doesn’t want a relationship. Not everyone does.”

  Slowly, oh so slowly, he turned her way. His hazel gaze blazed with…need? No, that couldn’t be right. Not after what he just said. So why was he looking at her like that?

  Uncomfortable with the silence, she blurted out, “You can stop stirring now. It’s done. Uh, good job.”

  He set the spoon down beside the bowl. When he turned her way again, any sign of desire was gone. “What do you want me to do next?” he asked, his voice low.

  Take me, right here, on the counter.

  Running his hand through his hair, he leaned on the counter. He was so sexy, standing there, all hard muscles and bedroom eyes. He wore a tight-fitting blue T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans that hugged him in all the right places. The cross tattoo on his arm stretched and moved as he moved his fingers through his thick hair.

  And even though he stood there, not even making a move toward her, it felt like he was seducing. She licked her lips. “Uh…”

  “It’s not a trick question.” He smirked, which should have annoyed her, but didn’t. “I stirred it, so now I—?”

  “Grease the pan, covering the whole bottom,” she blurted out. “That’s what you do. And make sure you do it thoroughly.”

  “Okay,” he said, the smirk widening. “I’m nothing if not thorough when it comes to getting stuff nice and lubricated.”

  Yeah. She learned that up close and personal last night, thank you very much. “Uh…yeah. Great.”

  Picking up the pan, he wiggled it under her nose. His all too familiar cologne teased her senses, which didn’t help her much when it came to resisting the urges he brought out in her. Especially after last night. “This one?”

  She nodded and checked the temperature.

  Since she didn’t have anything to say, she said nothing at all. He approached, stopping directly behind her. He stood a respectable distance from her, no different than he would have done on any other occasion, but since she bent over to check the oven, it was…

  Too close.

  He was too close.

  “Done.”

  “Now we put it in and bake it.” She walked to the counter and made quick work of filling the pan. The whole time, he watched her in silence. By the time she was finished and put it in the oven, she was on edge and a little bit uneasy. She set the timer and turned around, dusting her hands off, and smiled even though the forced cheerfulness hurt her cheeks. “Okay. Now I’ll—”

  Turned out, facing him was a huge mistake. He was so close she had to step back to look up at him. But there was nowhere to go, so her butt hit the handle of the oven. She stumbled a little, resting her hands on his chest, and he gripped her biceps to help steady her. “Oops. Sorry. So sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” The second he grabbed her, all secure and tight, her stomach tightened and her breath quickened, so she instinctively reared away. He frowned. “Are you scared to touch me now?”

  “N-No.” Her cheeks heated. “Of course not. We’re fine. I’m fine. Are you fine?”

  “Of course,” he said, running his thumbs over her skin, and his deep hazel eyes pulled her under his spell. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He searched her face for something. Something she wasn’t sure he would find. “You’re acting weird. Like you’re scared to be near me, or of me, even.”

  “I’m not,” she answered defensively. He kept running his thumbs over her arm. It was distracting. And intoxicating. “I don’t feel any differently toward you than I did last night, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  He tightened his hold on her. For some reason, her answer seemed to anger him. Well, if he expected her to beg him for more, he would be sadly disappointed. She wasn’t that girl. “Bullshit.”

  “No. Not bullshit.”

  “Prove it,” he dared her, his tone low and somehow seductive. “Prove you don’t want me to kiss you, right here, right now.”

  Her heart sped up, and her mouth dried out. She swallowed uncomfortably. “And how, exactly, do you expect me to do that?”

  “By kissing me.” He splayed a hand across her lower back, possessive and commanding, and hauled her closer. She didn’t even bother to resist. “Look the beast in the eye and show me it doesn’t scare you.”

  She licked her lips, both hands still on his chest. “What good would that do? If I’m scared of kissing you, like you seem to think I am, what will doing it prove?”

  “Asks the girl who locked herself in a closet because she was scared of dark, small spaces…” He dipped his hand lower, resting on the curve of her butt. “Just to prove she wouldn’t let it get the best of her.”

  “I was fifteen and stupid,” she said, cheeks flushed. “And you’re comparing yourself to a closet.”

  “I’m all right with that.” He lifted a shoulder. “Are you afraid it’ll change your feelings for me?”

  “No. Of course not.” She tilted her chin up, staring up into those intoxicating hazel eyes. The challenge in his was impossible to ignore. “I could make out with you right here, and again—nothing would change between us.”

  He lowered his face to hers, stopping short of kissing her. “So. Kiss me.”

  All day long, she’d been trying to excuse last night as some sort of thoughtless, drunken decision that would never be repeated. But they were both dead sober now, and last night hadn’t been a drunken night of impulsiveness. The truth was, in the years leading up to last night, she’d thought about the two of them a lot.

  There had been tons and tons of warning thoughts.

  She just chose to ignore them all and live in the moment last night. To take a chance. But now he was here, holding her, and asking her to do it again.

  And, God help her, she was debating it.

  Curling her hands into balls, she fisted his shirt and tugged him closer.

  His gaze heated even more at the small movement, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “Even though I shouldn’t, I’m gonna tell you the truth. I lied earlier, when you asked me if I was thinking about having you again.” His gaze roamed over her, heating her in places she’d never been heated before. “I’ve been thinking about it. All day. But the thing is, I’ve been trying not to.”

  She gripped his shirt so tightly her fingers ached. “Me, too.”

  “All I can think about is making you scream my name again. And I want to hear that sexy little moan you let out when you come. It can’t possibly be as hot as I remember it being. I want to make you come, again and again, until the urge is dead, and I can go back to not wanting to rip your clothes off every time I see you,” he said, his hand slipping down to cup her butt and pull her impossibly closer. “But if you don’t feel the same way, say the word. I’ll never mention how fucking hot you look when you come, or how badly I want to bury my dick inside of you, this time when I’m sober enough to know exactly what I’m doing and why. Just say the word.”

  A small moan escaped her.

  She couldn’t help it. And he was right.

  The urge to see him naked again was ridiculously strong. So maybe she was wrong about avoiding doing it again. Maybe if they banged it out of their systems, they could go back to being the platonic friends they had been before they succumbed to their desires. Neither of them were the type to get attached or addicted to their lovers, so it was only a matter of time until they both got this overwhelming desire out of their systems.

  Maybe this was the only way to get back to square one.

  Even as she talked herself into ignoring the warnin
g signs yet again, a small voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up. It kept asking…

  But what if it made it worse?

  “You’re thinking too much,” he whispered. “I wanna fuck you again. Do you want to fuck me?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

  He backed her against the counter, his focus locked on her mouth. “Why does that scare you?”

  “It just does.”

  He cupped her butt and lifted her up onto the counter next to her office, which had pens and paper scattered across it. Since she didn’t use this surface for baking, she didn’t stop him. “Because…?”

  “When you’re done with a woman, you walk away. You leave, and you don’t come back. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you,” she said, opting for complete honesty. She’d stretched the truth once. She wouldn’t do it again. “You mean too much to me. I wouldn’t survive the loss. There would be a big, gaping hole in my world that would never be filled.”

  He buried his face in her neck, stepping between her legs. His hard erection brushed up against her, making it a lot harder to listen to those screaming warning thoughts. “What about if I promise—fucking promise—you won’t lose me? I can. I do. I will never, ever, leave you, Lauren. I swear it.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t make promises. Didn’t like the pressure, or the implied trap such a thing meant. So the fact that he did so, now, was not lost on her. And all the fight left her. He promised she wouldn’t lose him.

  And if she trusted him, which she did, and she still desired him, which she also did, what was holding her back? If she had nothing to lose…

  What was stopping her?

  Chapter Twelve

  The internal battle she fought fleeted across her beautiful face. He’d struggled with it all night long, too, after she fell asleep. Even though he was being an even bigger asshole by giving in to his desire, nothing could stop him from doing it anyway. There was a hell of a lot at stake here, and he stood to lose everything…

  But he could maybe gain a hell of a lot, too.

  When he came here, he’d sworn he would keep his hands to himself. He had a plan. A course of action in place. Clean up his act. Keep his dick in his pants. Get the girl.

  But then he got here, and she was beautiful, and all plans fled.

  He had to have her.

  “Lauren,” he breathed, gripping her thighs. He stood between them, seconds from heaven, but she hadn’t invited him in yet. “I’m gonna make you come, again and again. It’s all I can think about ever since you kissed me. You. Me. Naked. Together. Now.”

  After what seemed like a million years, she nodded her head. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he said. He pressed against her again, his fingers digging into her thighs. “You have to say it.”

  She slid her hands down his chest and latched onto his sides right above his hips, in that same spot that he’d obsessed over on her all night long. “I want you. I’m all yours.”

  Growling, he captured her mouth, seizing the moment and refusing to let it go. She strained to get closer to him, but he held her firmly in place. His tongue entwined with hers, and he thrust against her. She moaned, and it drove him insane. It was just so damn sexy. After he left this morning, she put on a skirt, thank God, so he slid his hands up and inward, tracing her slit with his thumb.

  She was wet and warm and ready—but she wouldn’t get him.

  Not yet.

  First, he had to make her want it more than she ever wanted anything before. He drew a soft circle around her clit, soft enough to not send her over the edge, but hard enough to take her close enough to scream. She moaned and kissed him harder, her teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but he didn’t give a damn.

  All that mattered was getting her to scream his name again.

  Shoving her panties aside, he thrust a finger inside her, crooking it just right. She dug her nails into his sides, groaning and arching her back. He ended the kiss, pressing his thumb against her clit, and pulled back. “So damn hot.”

  “Steven.” She slid her hands under his shirt, over his pecs, and scratched them down his abs. “I…I…nee—ahhh.”

  “Shhh.” He nipped her shoulder, taking his finger out of her heat before thrusting two inside her, hitting the spot guaranteed to make her let out that choked scream again. “You’ll get it. All of it. I swear.”

  She gripped his pants, undoing the button with a flick of her wrist. “So will you. Let me—”

  “Not yet. Not until I say so.” He stilled her hand, like he always did when a woman tried to take control from him. “I’m—”

  “Listen and listen now.” Unzipping his jeans, she yanked him closer by them. “I’m okay with you being domineering in bed. It’s sexy. And I’m okay with you holding me down sometimes, too, and telling me when I’m allowed to come. It turns me on. But, if I want to touch you? I’ll do it.” She tugged his pants down and closed her hand over his dick, squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure. “And you’ll like it.”

  His gut twisted and all the blood in his body rushed south. Damn it, she was right. He did like it. He liked everything about her so much that he didn’t even mind that she made him break all his rules—repeatedly. “Fuck, yeah.”

  She cocked a brow and closed her fingers over him, jerking him off with a light, feminine touch. His eyes rolled back in his head. “See? Told you.”

  Growling in reply, he kissed her again, harder this time.

  She hesitated for a second, but kissed him back, her soft lips yielding to his with a sigh. He still had his fingers buried inside of her, so he pulled them out, thrusting them back inside. Touching her the same way she touched him.

  She ran her fingers up his hard length and pumped her hips against his palm, letting out those sexy noises he loved so damn much. It made the desire to flip her over and fuck her from behind even stronger. But he continued teasing her, bringing her closer to the edge, but pulling back each time she got there.

  And, damn it, she did the same thing to him.

  By the time he nipped at her lip and ended the kiss, his breathing somehow matched her erratic breaths. “Enough,” he growled, trapping her hand on his dick with his own. If she kept pulling and tugging and teasing, he’d be finished before they even started. “No more. It’s my turn now.”

  She rested her weight on her palms and parted her legs wider for him. “Steven. Yes.”

  He knelt between her knees and nipped her thigh, his fingers still buried inside of her. He watched her as he fucked her with his hand. Her soft pink lips were wet and ready, and he ached to bury himself inside her. The strength of his desire for her would be enough to scare a lesser man. Maybe even him, if he let it. “It’s only been a few hours, but shit, Lauren, I swear it’s been too long since I was between your legs. I need another taste.”

  She spread her thighs wider, burying her hands in his hair, and let out a throaty chuckle. “Permission granted.”

  Heart pounding in his head, he tore her panties off, tossed them over his shoulder, and flicked his tongue over her swollen clit. She moaned and closed her legs on his head, holding him in place. He did it again, grinning when she squirmed, clearly trying to get closer, but he didn’t let her. “You taste better than anything you’ve ever baked.”

  “Oh my God,” she moaned. He froze. So did she. She shook her head. “Steven. I mean Stev—”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, pulling back. “Too late.”

  “Please don’t stop,” she begged, tightening her legs on his head and tugging on his hair roughly. “Please.”

  He didn’t answer. Mostly because he didn’t think he could. He was too busy trying to retain control over himself, and failing. No matter what she thought, the way she made him feel, and the things she did to him inside the bedroom and out of it, was unlike anything he’d ever felt or done before. She made him want to let go.

  Forg
et himself, and all he’d done on the battlefield and off of it.

  And that was a scary thought.

  He closed his lips around her clit, sucking and licking until she screamed and rocked her hips against his mouth wildly, her breaths coming fast and hard. He couldn’t get enough of her wild movements and breathy cries. They were simply too addicting.

  She dug her heel into his upper back, arched her back, pressed closer to his mouth, and came. She screamed his name when she did, yanking on his hair as she soared, and ended on a sexy little moan that he loved. He didn’t stop his torment, even though she bucked her hips and her cries of ecstasy turned into whimpers. He kept the strokes of his tongue light and teasing, and within moments, she was riding that train again, coming hard and sagging against the wall behind her.

  That was his cue to move on to the next stop. By the time he was finished with her, she would never want to let him go. Standing, he grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over, so she stood in front of the counter with her ass in the air. Reaching into his pocket, he ripped open the foil packet he pulled out and rolled the condom on.

  She was too spent to do much more than sigh and moan, so he slid her skirt up, baring her ass to his sight. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled, palming her roughly.

  She whimpered and pressed into his hand, despite her clear satisfaction with what he’d done to her so far. That was hotter than anything else she could have said or done. “Steven.”

  “I’m here.” He positioned the tip of his dick between her thighs, pressing inside of her just the slightest bit. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’m good and finished.”

  Whenever the hell that would be.

  She scratched her nails across the stainless steel counter. “Do it.”

  He cupped her from behind, resting his palm directly over her core. His fingers brushed her clit, and she sucked a deep breath in. “I will. When I’m fucking ready.”

  Slowly, lazily, he traced circles around her clit. She cried out, dropping her head on the counter, and fisted her hands. “You’re killing me.”