A hand at the back of my skull, she presses deeper, her mouth persistent. My lips part on their own, and my conscious thoughts are no longer in the driver’s seat. Now it’s all about sensation. The feel of her fingers twisting in my hair. Her bare skin pressed against mine. The thrum of her heart hammering over my chest.
She pushes harder, her tongue delving inside. Mine meets hers, gliding and twisting. She tastes like spun sugar and bright heaven and all that is amazing and wondrous. It goes straight to my head until I’m mindless with escalating need for her.
Our breathing grows rougher and harder, and her lips are soft yet aggressive, silencing whatever thought my conscious mind is trying to send to my brain.
My heart thuds, matching the rhythm her pulse sets, as though it’s no longer mine anymore, but hers. She places a hand on my shoulder, grips it hard until her pink nails dig into the muscle. Soft, desperate sounds vibrate in her throat, and I run my palm along the dip of her small waist, feeling the supple, heated skin.
“I want you,” she whispers against my mouth. Her dark gaze looks into mine, and it’s all I can do to swallow the “I need you” that's threatening to push through my lips.
But the tiny break is all I need to regain a bit of sanity. I can’t let her do something she’ll only come to regret.
“Elizabeth—Liza. You’ve been injured. You still…”
“It’s been over a week, Dominic. Nothing’s broken. I’m fine.”
I bite back a curse. She’s right. Her bruises and scabs are mostly gone now. I have to really look to see the slight discolorations, and the last thing I want to do is examine her bare skin and lose control of myself again. I’m so, so dangerously close to the point of no return.
She reaches for me again, and I wrap my hands around her wrists gently.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Why don’t you want me?”
Damn it. “It isn’t that I don’t want you, but—”
“Dominic, don’t pull away. I’m fine.”
Her eyes search mine, and I let her see all the conflicting desires fighting within me, so she knows I want her with mad desperation.
She gives me a soft, reassuring smile. “I swear I’ll let you know if you’re hurting me.”
Fighting for calm and something appropriate to say to defuse the situation, I inhale deeply, then realize I just made a colossal mistake. The scent of her fills me, and it only works to push out a little bit more reason out of my mind.
“Liza… I… I had—have an injury that hasn’t healed quite yet.”
She blinks. “You do?”
“Uh. Yeah. It’s…” I grasp madly for something. What kind of injury makes a man unable to reciprocate?
A whole-body cast, you dumbass. If you can’t stick your dick inside her, there’s always your mouth. If your mouth’s broken, then there’s always your fingers.
“My doctor at the hospital told me to…exercise control until it doesn’t hurt anymore,” I say finally.
“What hurts?”
“Some muscles and tendons. I forgot their names.” God, such terrible lies. But it’s impossible to come up with something clever when all the blood’s pooling between my legs, and she smells amazing, and her taste is still in my mouth.
Frowning, she says, “You seemed okay yesterday. Carrying our suitcases into the house and everything.”
This is why shitty liars go to hell. At least the good ones don’t get caught and cause the other person doubts. “I can’t have you carry them. Man code.”
My phone rings—thank God—and I shove my hand into the pocket for it, desperate for a reprieve. Even a telemarketer would be welcome at this point.
“Dominic King speaking,” I say, making my voice as professional and calm as possible, so Elizabeth will assume this is a business call.
“What’s the matter with you?” comes a near-hysterical screech from my aunt.
I almost pull the phone away from my ear. Elizabeth raises both of her golden eyebrows, and I mouth, “HR crisis,” and walk away quickly, not wanting her to overhear Aunt Dorothy’s hysterical bullshit.
“I asked you to give him a job, not kick him when he’s at his most vulnerable.”