Time for a new tactic.

I pulled my purse off my arm, starting to dig through it, declaring, “Right, then I’ll get a taxi.”

Suddenly my purse was yanked out of my hand and I was staring at Hop digging through it. He pulled out my phone, shoved it in his pocket, then tossed my bag across the room where it landed with a bounce on the ratty easy chair that was mostly covered in dirty clothes as well as his leather cut.

I stared at my purse then I stared at his face, then I looked at his jeans pocket before I looked back at him, lifting my hand, palm up.

“Give me my phone,” I ordered.

“You want it, go for it,” he goaded.

I crossed my arms on my chest, murmuring, “Oh, I see.”

“You don’t see shit,” he ground out.

My brows lifted. “I don’t?”

“No, babe, so goddamned blind, purposefully, you’re stumblin’, bumpin’ into shit, but barrelin’ ahead anyway, bound for a world of hurt.”

That was way too close to the bone so I ignored it, uncrossed my arms and lifted my hand his way again.

“Hopper, give me my phone.”

“You’re sleepin’ here tonight.”

I planted my hands on my hips, leaned in and hissed, “Told you, I see. I know what you’re doing.”

“You don’t know shit either.”

“I know this is bullshit,” I fired at him.

“Well, you got one thing right,” he fired back.

Gah! He had an answer for everything. He was so annoying!

I took a calming breath that didn’t calm me before I snapped. “Give me my phone.”

“No.”

“Hop, give me my damn phone!”

He ignored me. “You sleep in one of my tees. The ones here are all dirty but don’t matter. Even dirty, they’re better than what you’re wearin’,” he stated as he flipped a hand out and up, indicating me.

Backed into a corner, I decided to get nasty.

“I’ve been around you a lot, Hop. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen what you like. This,” I swept a hand down my front, “is the way you like it.”

Nasty was not—and I knew it, I’d learned that lesson before—the way to go.

I learned it again then when, one second, he was three feet away. The next, he was right on me, hand in the back of my hair, arm wrapped around my back, his face in my face, lips nearly on mine.

“Yeah, I liked skank,” he bit off. “Liked the taste. Wild, free, and easy. Went back for more. Repeatedly. But that was before I had my mouth between the legs of a lady. You get that, you don’t go back.”

Oh no. The area between the legs where he’d had his mouth got wet at his words and it didn’t help he was so close; my breaths were mingling with his, my breasts were brushing his chest, and my mind was centering on the fact that I knew what it felt like, my breasts bared, his chest the same, and my nipples brushing against his chest hair.

At the memory, my breaths got shallow but faster and those nipples swelled.

He either felt or sensed my reaction and I knew this because his hand in my hair fisted, his lips moved so they grazed mine, and the mood of the room shifted so immensely it was a wonder we didn’t rock with it.

In response to all that, my breaths got shallower and my legs started trembling so much I had to lift a hand and curl my fingers in the side of his tee.

“Three weeks,” he growled. “I go to bed, lie there and think of you. Wake up, you’re the first thing on my mind.”

Oh God.

I liked that.

Oh God.

I couldn’t like it.

I tried to wipe his words from my brain but he went on, “Tell me you don’t feel that.”

I shook my head, short, sharp, and his fist in my hair tightened.

No pain.

Control.

Possession.

I liked that, too.

Yes, when we hit Chaos, I hit trouble.

My knees started to get weak and I lifted my other hand to curl into the other side of his tee.

“You feel it,” he whispered against my lips. “You do the same, lady. You go to bed thinkin’ of me, wake up with me on your mind. You do the exact, fuckin’ same.”

I closed my eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I opened my eyes.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “You do the same.”

“No,” I breathed.

He held my eyes.

Then I felt the tip of his tongue sweep my lower lip.

Without my permission, my body swayed into his, pressing deep, and my eyes closed again.

“Liar,” he whispered.

He was right. I was lying.

I felt the same. I did the same. I went to bed thinking of him. I woke up, he was the first thing on my mind. Further, throughout the day, he slid into my brain constantly to torment me.

I had to end this.

I had to shut him up.

In order to do that, for some insane reason, I kissed him.

Not surprisingly, he kissed me back.

His kiss was better and my whole body thought so, especially my mouth, which moaned into his and my arms, which wrapped around his neck.

Seconds later I was on my back in the bed, Hop’s mouth still on mine, his tongue in my mouth.

Needing his taste, craving it for weeks, not having it, my tongue forced its way into his mouth.

Just as I remembered, he tasted great.

Spicy.

Manly.

Intoxicating.

Then his mouth and tongue were on my neck and my shirt was torn open, flimsy little pearl buttons giving up the fight easy, the ones that didn’t popped right off. Hop’s head moved as his fingers curled into the cup of my bra and yanked it down.

I gasped.

His mouth closed on my nipple.

My back arched, forcing it deeper.

Hop accepted the invitation and sucked hard.

My fingers slid into his long hair, my head went back and a low moan escaped the back of my throat.

This was good, so, so good to have back, what I needed, the only thing that filled the void in me.

He paid delicious and long-lasting attention to one nipple, then yanked the cup at the other side of my bra down and paid the same attention to that nipple.

Panting, moaning and squirming, even as I held his head to me, I begged, “My turn, honey.”

Hop lifted his head then his torso and he was on his knees in the bed, straddling me.

I knifed up as he yanked off his tee. Hands and mouth moving on him, his belly, his sides, his pecs, his nipples, my tongue sliding up that dense line of hair to the valley at his pecs and then it veered off to the side and my lips closed over his nipple.

Hop cupped the back of my head with his hand as his hips moved forward and he pressed his crotch against my breasts.

With his hardness against me, understandably, I lost interest in his nipple and went for his belt buckle. Scrambling to get my knees under me for better balance and maneuverability, I barely got them where I wanted them before Hop’s fingers curled into the hem of my skirt and yanked it up. Then his fingers went in and slid down, right into my panties.

I dropped my head to his pec and slid my hands up to curl around the side of his neck as his finger hit the spot and swirled.

God, God.

The best.

He pressed his face in my neck and muttered, “You’re wet. Ready. Not your mouth, baby, your pussy. Get your panties off.”

I nodded, my forehead rolling on his chest, and moved back. I pulled my skirt up at the sides, feeling his eyes on me but I was concentrating. I yanked my panties down, dropped to a hip and peeled them along my legs, over my ankles, and tossed them away.

Back to my knees I went and saw he had his jeans tugged just to his hips, and he was rolling on a condom.

God.

Hot.

“Climb up, Lanie.”

My eyes went to his. I wet my lip with my tongue, his face got hungry, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Then the other one. Then a leg around his hip. I used his shoulders for leverage, did a knee hop to get the other one up and around. He bent into me to catch me at my ass at the same time he dropped me to my back in the bed and then he was inside me.

Yes.

Yes.

Injected, the drug that was Hop coursed through my veins. I had it back in a way I couldn’t believe I’d ever managed to live without it.

“Fuck me, your pussy,” he groaned into my neck, his hips moving, slow, steady, sweet. His head came up and his eyes captured mine. “So tight, baby. Wet, sleek glove. Nothin’ like you, lady. Nothin’ like that beauty.”

I lifted my head, pulling him to me with one arm, pressing my chest to his as my other hand slid over the skin of his back and I urged, “Faster, honey.”

“Takin’ my time, Lanie.”

“Faster, baby.” This time it was a plea.

“You take me as I give it and I’m takin’ my time.”

I moaned my disappointment against his mouth.

Hop kissed me.

That was better.

He took his time but he did it while kissing me.

Then he went faster.

That was also better.

Then harder.

That was even better.

Then his hand slid over my belly, down and his thumb found me.

That was the best and I knew it because I came. Hard. The explosion excruciating in its beautiful intensity.

“Look at me, Lanie.”

With effort, as what he gave me swept through me, I righted my head and slowly opened my eyes.

He stared into mine as he moved inside me.

“Most beautiful eyes I’ve ever fuckin’ seen,” he part muttered, part growled, going faster, deeper, his thumb pressing in and swirling, and my hips jerked.

“Hop,” I breathed, not quite done coming when the impossible happened and it started building again.

“Missed your eyes, baby,” he whispered, his hips powering fast, his thumb pressing deep.

“Hop,” I panted, my limbs around him tensing.

“Missed you, lady.”

Oh God.

I pressed my mouth to his. He drove hard with his hips and pressed his thumb tight then circled.

The best.

I just had the best and, God, God, he made it better.

“Missed you too, honey.”

That was me, sharing what I shouldn’t, doing what I shouldn’t, holding tight, lifting my hips to get as much of him as I could, seeking his thumb, pressing against his body, my lips moving against his.

“I know you did, baby,” he groaned before his tongue slid into my mouth, his thumb executing a maneuver that should be patented. My second orgasm seared through me so deep, it had to have left an internal scar and I whimpered down his throat.

He planted himself to the root and his grunt turned into a groan that drove down mine.

We kissed through our orgasms and heavy breathing, miraculous and beautiful, and only when it slid away did his mouth and his ’tache glide down my cheek to my neck where he gave me the sweet crash after the mind-blowing high.

I held on, felt it, memorized it, every inch, his cock buried deep, his weight on me, the smell of him, his warmth, his mouth, the tickle of his whiskers, his everything.

Before I could accomplish this feat, he spoke.

“You’re sleepin’ here.”

I closed my eyes and my limbs convulsed before they loosened so I could prepare to push him away.

His hips pressed into mine. That felt really good, which was really bad, and I was dealing with that when his head came up.

“You’re sleepin’ here. When I let you sleep, you’re doin’ it not in your slut clothes but in my tee and tomorrow, when we wake up, we’re talkin’.”

“Hop—”

“Shut it.”

I shut it but my confused, scared, post-orgasmic haze lifted so I shut it on a glare.

Before I could take him to task for telling me to shut it, he began talking again.

“Tonight, you got drunk and you nearly got yourself raped. Tomorrow, we talk about what’s in your head, what’s in our future, and how we’re gonna play it. You are not closin’ down on me. You are not shuttin’ me out. I tried to give you that, you nearly got raped. I’m done givin’ you that.”

“We don’t have a future,” I informed him.

“We have a future,” Hop informed me.

“We don’t.”

“Lady, we do.”

My eyes narrowed and I snapped loudly, “Don’t!”

He grinned and pointed out, “Seated deep, babe. I get rid of this condom, gonna eat you until you come ’cause I miss you on my tongue. Then I’m gonna fuck you again and maybe let you go down on me before I fuck you again. You wanna keep arguing, we’ll do it tomorrow when… we…” his grin didn’t leave as his face dipped closer, “talk. Now, I gotta go get rid of this condom. You gonna do somethin’ stupid so I have to cuff you to the bed?”