Page 77 of Unexpected Shot
The last thing I want to do—ever—is obey an order from Beau. It goes against everything I am as a person. Except I can’t ignore the zing that runs through my body at his words. Or the pulsing in my core as we lock eyes in the mirror, his brown depths not letting go of me for a single second. Or how the only reason my legs aren’t giving out right now is Beau’s arm holding me up.
“I hate you.”
“Probably,” he says with a smirk before tilting his head down to the crook of my shoulder. “But we both know you don’t.”
Words die on my lips. The coarseness of his beard collides with my bare skin as his nose traces up and down the column of my neck, stealing every word and argument from my brain. His lips have barely grazed me, let alone kissed me, but somehow I already feel him through every cell of my body. His hands caress lightly over my stomach, cupping my breasts, twisting the nipples between his fingers as my body tries to embrace the sensation while also not wanting to completely give in to him.
“You’re not watching,” he rasps and my eyes flutter open. “How can you hate me if you don’t see how I’m making you feel?”
I want to scream. Punch him. Kick him in the dick.
But my body? My body is another story.
Because against every fiber of my being, and a screaming megaphone in my brain, I want more. More of his hands on me. My skin against his.
I’m going to kiss him.
And I’m going to hate every second.
Without warning, I spin around in his hold, pushing him against the mirrored wall. I catch him off guard, his feet stumbling before he hits the frame. It doesn’t take long for his hands to find my hips as he pulls me into him, our lips crashing in a way that could leave us bruised in the morning.
But neither of us care. We don’t care one damn bit.
My hands cling to the waistband of his shorts as our mouths tangle for dominance. It’s intense. Incendiary. Years of frustration and hate and whatever else has run between us finally coming to an ignition point.
And somehow…familiarity.
Despite hating most things about men, I’ve kissed, and unfortunately slept with, my fair share over the years. Many weren’t long term. Most were mediocre. But they scratched theitch at the time I needed them. None of them ever came close to what’s happening now.
None of them felt like their mouth was all over me at once. None of them made me feel like my body was on fire from one kiss, their hands pulling me in at the small of my back. None made me feel like if I don’t get more than this kiss and a little nipple play in the next five seconds, I’m going to actually combust. And surely none of them ever made me moan without anything penetrating me.
“Beau…”
His name slips out unconsciously. In my defense, his mouth is sucking a spot on my neck, right at my pulse point, and I feel like I’m about to have an orgasm from the neck G-spot I didn’t realize I had.
God I hate him. I hate him so much. Because this feels so fucking good.
I’m not thinking straight, clearly, which is the only excuse for how my hands are fumbling to pull up the hem of his light gray, long-sleeved T-shirt. The one that’s been clinging to his arms since the second he stormed into my hotel room. Showing off biceps he has no right having, and I have no business noticing.
“Oh now I really hate you…”
I’m stunned speechless at the sight of a shirtless Beau Devereaux in front of me. A vision hits me that I’ve seen him like this before, in this very spot, but I push it away, choosing to focus on the here and now.
I will admit, but only to myself, that I’ve wondered what he looks like underneath the always-put-together clothing ensembles. The last time I remember seeing him without a shirt was when he was thirteen, before puberty had fully taken hold of him.
And holy shit…Beau has grown up.
His chest isn’t smooth by any means, his dark hair perfectly covering his defined pecs. Broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, and abs that haven’t been ignored a day in the gym.If someone were to ask me what the perfect male form is, it’s this.
Beau.
“You always did like to stare.”
My eyes meet his again, that damn smirk peeking out of the corner of his lips.
“And you never have?”
He slowly starts walking me back toward the other wall, the smile on his face nothing short of devious. “I’ve stared more times than I’ll ever admit.”
