Drunk on You Read online

  But ... that cock.

  Yes, that makes all the craziness that brought his visit to fruition worth it because I want that ... a lot.

  Ten minutes later, I'm pulling my long blond hair up on top of my head in a wet, messy bun. I've got on a pair of my favorite yoga pants--the ones that I know make my ass look amazing--and a tight tank top. I wasted five minutes wondering if I should wear a bra or not, but I decided Shane would get me how I usually look on a Saturday: no work, no makeup, no fuss.

  I look down at my chest and regret skipping the bra when I see my nipples poking through the cotton material.

  "Well, that's one way to say hello." I giggle, turning back to go lock these bad boys up. Or that had been my intention until a quick but strong knock sounded on the front door.

  My eyes widen, and I turn woodenly to stare through my apartment, half convinced my overexcited mind imagined the sound. When it repeats, I jolt, rushing through the living room area until I've got both my palms against the door and my face pressed against the peephole.

  Even through my fisheye view, he's the most handsome man I've ever seen. His artfully shaped beard looking a day past a five o'clock shadow, something that I just know he spends time making sure looks good daily, makes the strong features of his face more pronounced. His long nose is perfectly symmetrical to his face, straight and as perfect as the rest of him. Thick brows that aren't too thick or too shaped, as dark as the locks on the top of his head, make his eyes look lighter than the moss green I know them to be. And those lips. Those sinfully full, pouty lips that just make a woman want to drop down and thank the good Lord he made such a perfect man.

  "I am in so far over my head," I whisper.

  As if he heard me, he looks up from the spot on the door he had been studying right in the peephole, smirking one side of those lips up in a grin that makes me think he can see through the door and right into my damn soul.

  "So. Damn. Far."

  I glance down at my nipples one more time and sigh. Well, might as well just go with it. The disengaging lock sounds louder than I've ever noticed. The only thing louder is the pounding of my heart. I take a deep breath, open the door, and look up, swooning the whole time, and pray I don't look as nervous as I feel right now.

  "Hey," I wheeze, clearing my throat as my cheeks heat.

  His smile widens. He's clearly enjoying my awkwardness just as much as I like what he looks like on my doorstep.

  "How did you know where I lived?"

  His lips part and his white teeth bare as his smile grows even more.

  "It's really not fair that you're so hot. I actually think it's frying my brain cells."

  His chest moves as he laughs; slow and deep grunts of what can only be described as a manly chuckle make goose bumps dance across my exposed skin. "Let me in, cherie."

  "Oh, fine," I exasperate sarcastically, rolling my eyes and stepping to the side so he can enter.

  He doesn't even attempt to be polite and use the space I've given him to pass into my apartment. He steps into my space, crowding me instantly with his eyes downcast and only giving me enough space to shut the door behind us. He reaches up, and before it registers what he's about to do, he's got the hoops of my piercings pinched between his fingers, pulling them just enough to give me a bite of pain. With the thin material of my shirt not offering much protection, I feel the burn of his heat tango with the pain smarting my nipples.

  "I liked these when I saw them last night," he whispers in a deep rumble of pure seduction. "I think I like them a lot more now that I've got my hands on them."

  I whimper. Shameless and pleading. My shoulders roll back and forth with a dance that begs for a partner when my nipples pinch from the movement and his hold.

  "Tell me, Nicole. On a scale of drunken mistakes to fuck me now, how much of last night did you mean?"

  I lick my lips, whining deep in my throat when he tweaks my piercings again.

  "I don't like repeating myself," he continues, releasing another bite of pressure from his fingertips when he pinches me again.

  "Whe-where does fuck me until I can't walk fall into that?"

  His eyes shoot to mine, and I watch in fascination as his control slips for the briefest of seconds, the play behind his eyes making them look more honey brown than moss green.

  "1Ca va etre mon plaisir de jouer avec toi, cherie."

  "Holy shit," I gasp, eyes wide and panties soaked. "What was that?"

  "A promise."

  * * *

  1 It's gonna be my pleasure to play with you, darling

  "IF YOU KEEP SAYING ... WELL, whatever it is that you're saying, I'm pretty sure I'm going to make things crazy awkward and lock you in my bedroom for the rest of eternity."

  He laughs again, clearly not understanding the state of my hormones as he shakes his head and bends to kiss my cheek. "Talk first, eat first, or let me eat you while you talk?"

  My skin burns where his lips had touched briefly. Hot Hunnam on a stick, I'm going to combust. "Actually, I take that back. I'm not even sure I care if it makes things awkward, to be honest, because if those are the kind of options I get ... I might just keep you." I continue even though his words make my whole body go into overdrive.

  "Eat first, talk second, and I'll eat you last," he decides, ignoring me completely. His eyes study my face for a small second before his smirk grows, and he silently walks around the cut-out bar top area and into my galley kitchen. Without even touching me as he struts past me, the jerk.

  He makes himself at home. Opening the fridge, he rummages through the contents, not saying anything else while I stand there shocked and horny. I'm not capable of doing much else besides just gawking without even budging. I'm too close to melting into a puddle to be bothered with something as mundane, let alone asking the guest currently helping himself, if I can be of assistance. I'll tell you what I would rather be assisting him with.

  "Not sure that's going to work," I finally say breathlessly.

  All sounds from his raiding of the fridge stop and I wait, watching his grip on the fridge door tighten before he lifts his head and looks over the open door with a brow raised in my direction, silently questioning me.

  "Even if I were hungry, I can't eat like this," I continue, waving my hands wildly in a sweeping movement from head to toe before waving them some more--and maybe a little more enthusiastically toward him.

  He shuts the fridge, standing to his full height--again, silent. I should have worn shoes. At least, had I done so, I wouldn't be craning my neck to look up at him when he is so close. I would also be able to use that little height I gained to pretend he doesn't intimidate the crap out of me. But I didn't, and the second he moves from the fridge, taking the few steps needed to be back in front of me, I'm a ball of nerves two seconds away from going out of my mind. I keep my eyes level with his chest, watching the hard muscles flex under the black cotton T-shirt he's got molded to his skin. It's stretched tight against his muscular build, his pecs flexing with every single movement he makes.

  I just resist fidgeting with my own shirt, knowing there is a massive difference in his hard and my soft. I take pride in keeping my body in shape, but nothing like he does.

  His body is a work of art. Every inch of him, I bet.

  Oh, shit. I'm doing it again. I mentally berate myself for ogling him for the hundredth time, shameless in my desire for him.

  "I make you nervous," he mumbles, reaching one hand up to trace a slow trail from my temple to my chin. "Why?"

  The silence ticks around us as he moves his fingers down my neck and over my shoulder before reversing his path. My heart pounding with each whisper touch of his. A finger. That's all it takes to make my core start to ripple with needy anticipation--and it's a finger that isn't anywhere near where I would love it to be.

  He steps closer; my vision fills with the blackness of his shirt and my nose with the scent of his cologne when I take a quick--albeit nervous--breath. I need to get a hold of myself.
I'm the one who started this craziness, and now, here he is, ready to take what I'm offering, and I'm freaking out instead of taking what my body so clearly wants.

  His fingers pass behind my neck, tickling the soft wispy hairs that had fallen loose at the base of my skull. I never thought the annoyingly small strands could be such a turn-on, but when he trails back, brushing over them again, I shiver.

  "1Si timide. On va s'amuser," he whispers huskily.

  I shiver, wishing to everything holy that I would have paid better attention in French class. Two years in high school and I've got nothing.

  "What happened to the fearless little vixen who sent me a picture with her fingers deep inside her pussy? Hmm?"

  "Oh, my."

  "I won't bite," he continues, his low and husky voice tinted with humor. His tongue snakes out, the tip trailing up the shell of my ear before pulling away and pressing his stubbled cheek against mine; his mouth is so close to my ear his breath chills the wet trail he just created. "Unless you want me to, that is."

  Good God, what about this man makes me mute and docile? I have never been that type of woman. Until this moment, I never would have guessed I had a docile bone in my body, but there is no doubt Shane dominates every single part of me.

  Body and mind.

  And even more confusing, I want him to. I need to get my head out of the books I love to get lost in.

  "Why do I make you nervous, cherie? Is it because you're not used to the type of man I am, or because you aren't used to the way the type of man I am makes you feel?"

  "May-" I clear my throat. "Maybe I'm just nervous about that giant cock you're working with."

  "Now isn't the time to use your humor to shield yourself, Nicole. I asked you a question; now, answer it."

  "I've never felt anything like this," I tell him softly and honestly with no hesitation. I couldn't have kept the words in if I had tried. He just has this sort of power over me that I can't explain.

  He makes a noise of agreement but doesn't vocalize it; he just continues the light brushing of his fingertips over my skin.

  "My brain just stops working when you're near," I continue, the words still flowing without pause. My eyes widen, unable to stop them. Now that I've opened the gates, it seems the mute button is finally clicked off. Too bad the nerves won't vanish as well.

  "That's because your body knows who is in control here."

  I snort. "My body hardly knows you."

  His fingers fall from the glide they had been making up my neck. Before I even have a second to miss his touch, he's fisting my bound hair tightly, and with a gentle yet firm twist of his wrist, he's forcing me to look at him. His touch isn't painful or menacing, but it isn't forgiving either. I have no doubt I'll be in this position until he wants me to be free. Huge jolts of awareness start to shoot off inside my already overwhelmed body, and I find myself melting even more. My legs wobbling as I sway toward him, I reach out to brace my hands on either side of his torso with wide eyes.

  "Your body burns for me, Nikki, and all I've done is tasted your mouth. You think it matters if we know each other past that to fuck? I barely touch you, and you come alive."

  Wetness dampens my panties, and I swallow a lump of arousal before speaking, fighting the intoxicating allure of his dominance. "I'm not a slut," I hiss, hoping to hide the edginess I feel if I were to attempt anything other than that. "Just because my body is reacting to you doesn't mean that."

  His eyes narrow, and his hold on my hair jerks, tipping my neck back a little more. He takes a step forward and presses our bodies together. My head remains in his control, tipped perfectly to look up at his handsome face. His head bends as he moves, our fronts rubbing together and enticing a moan-like whine from my lips. His eyes brighten, looking more golden brown now. I wonder, briefly, if his eyes are like some sort of mood ring to his soul.

  "Don't insinuate that I would think you are, Nicole."

  I gulp, the sound loud in the silence around us. "We both know you're only here because of that text I sent, Shane. You also know from that text that I'm a sure thing. You don't have to play games to get me there when I've already been there for a while now."

  His eyes flash, darkening until the gold is all but gone and only brown remains. I'm thinking, if they were a mood ring, brown definitely isn't a good sign. Not with the hard set of his jaw accompanying it.

  "I don't play games like that, Nicole. It might have been that text that got me here today, but that's because it was an opening I had been waiting for, not because I want to get my cock wet. You might not know everything about me, but you know enough. We're not strangers."

  "You don't seem like the kind of man to sit around and just wait for an opening if you want something." If my arms could move, I would pump my fist in the air for being able to form a complete sentence without sounding like I'm burning alive on the inside from his nearness.

  "Until last night, I thought you were still with that asshole. I'm not the kind of man who's going to move in on another man's woman--no matter what I think of that man or how badly I want that woman. I might be a lot of things, but a cheater isn't one of them."

  "I haven't been with Seth in over a year."

  "He's been around, so you see where one might assume differently." His voice is cold, and his eyes are narrowed.

  "Yeah, that's true, but that isn't because I want him to be, jeez!"

  He studies me, and I take the time to calm myself down. Or, at least, attempt to.

  "You'll explain that," he demands.

  "Not now, but yes."

  "Good girl."

  For whatever reason, those two words turn me on more than they should. My body zings with an odd mixture of excitement and anticipation. I know instantly that I'll do whatever it takes to hear those two words again and feel that again.

  "Regardless of what happened to get me here, Nikki, don't doubt that I very much want to be here." He presses his hips tighter against my body, his erection pressing into my stomach with heavy undeniable awareness. "As I said, I'm not a cheater, but you've tested my control at every turn. Since the day I met you, it feels like it. Even before I became unattached, you had me thinking thoughts that no man in a relationship should have for a woman who wasn't the one he was with. I didn't even know you, and I craved you when she was sleeping in my bed, and for that, Nicole, I'm going to punish you now that I'm finally free to do something about this attraction between us."

  "Punish?" I question, gasping while I sway slightly. My legs wobble, and for the first time since he fisted my hair to control me, his other hand touches me. His arm wraps around my back, hand clasping me tightly at the hip to support me in a way that makes me a prisoner to him. I love it.

  "I tried to warn you, but I'm thinking I was wrong about you, Nicole. I didn't think you could handle me, and that was a big part of why I denied allowing myself to act on this attraction. But I was wrong, wasn't I? All I have to do is look at you, and you're ready to drop to your knees and do what I command, aren't you?"

  My mouth flounders, but words don't come, my mind not knowing how to handle his words combined with the way I'm feeling. I've never felt anything like this. My sex life hasn't ever been anything special. I always felt like something was missing.

  Desperation.

  I've never felt that overwhelming need before. I've never had someone make me feel intoxicated, drunk, and craving the only thing that can keep this high buzzing through my system.

  Desperation, for him.

  Any way I can get him.

  Shit, he's right. I really would do anything he demanded of me. I can't even understand it myself. I have never reacted to a man the way that I am, right now, to Shane.

  He drops his hand, releasing my hair and me so swiftly I almost lose my footing as I try to clean the cobwebs from my head. I reach out, grabbing the breakfast bar corner to steady myself at the same time he reaches out to steady me, but otherwise, I don't move. And neither does he. I'm not sure if he was
trying to steady me or keep me in place. I'm struck immobile by the truth of his words. My body at his complete control without conscious choice. His eyes trail over every inch of my face. Waiting for what, I'm not sure, but it only amps up that damn desperation.

  I hear a door slam in the distance, and my senses heighten while I wait to see what he'll say or do next. Footsteps on the landing outside my front door break the silence. People talking. A car starting down in the parking lot. All of that sounds in stereo as if he's unlocked my body and I can sense everything that much stronger.

  I open my mouth to tell him so, only to gasp--sucking in a hard, frantic pull of oxygen out of reflex alone. He's right, and there's no doubt about it. If this is a hint of what he can give me, I know I'll do anything he wants if it means I can continue on this euphoric high. My eyes wide in shock, I search his face for a clue to where his thoughts have gone while I've been lost in my mind, but he just studies me with a stoic, almost bored expression.

  That free hand, that same devilish hand that had been forcing me to stay still minutes ago with a grasp on my hair, moves until it's wrapped tightly around my throat. Not firm enough to cut off my air, but constricting enough that I know he could do just that if he wanted to. His fingers flex, biting a little more forcefully into my skin but only long enough to show me who is in control--as if I could forget--before he relaxes them. The movement not enough to leave a mark, which I'm sure is his intention. I'm not sure if I'm happy about that, though.

  As the images of his handprints on my body invade my brain, I feel as if I could pass out. I'm dizzy, my head spinning with something I've never even thought about experiencing. Not fear, as one would expect, but pure excitement. I shouldn't want that. I've never had a man put his hands on me like this, but it just makes me want more--badly.