I hit him as hard as I could in the shoulder, which wasn’t that hard considering how weak I was.
His mouth met mine. And soon my shirt was on the floor.
He said it changed nothing.
But little did he know—it changed everything.
Because we were about to have unprotected sex.
And I wasn’t pregnant.
Not with his child.
Not with anyone else’s. Thank God nobody had said anything about the baby, I was lucky they were so worried about me being okay—that they hadn’t even thought to ask about a miscarriage.
So yeah, I was changing everything. Playing by my own rules. I’d made this deal with the devil to begin with—and I was going to follow it through.
To save his life, like he saved mine? Yeah, I’d follow through.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chasing the devil isn’t hell. It’s realizing that you’re chasing yourself that’s hell.
Tex
WHAT THE HELL was I thinking? Smooth skin taunted me, begged me to touch, to caress, to damn near lick from head to toe and refuse to stop until Mo was so boneless that she could barely lift her head.
Sex with Mo had always been playful, fun, hot as hell, but right now? It was scorching. My heart, you know the part that I still had, scolded me, told me to stop while I was ahead.
But my head?
My body?
Begged and damn near pleaded for me to continue touching her. She was mine, after all. Not Sergio’s, not Nixon’s, not anyone’s but mine. She’d always been mine damn it, and I was going to make sure she never forgot that. It wasn’t even about love… what I was doing was pure need. Forget love. Did it even fit in our relationship? After the hurt we’d given each other, I had no idea. But what I did know?
No woman ever responded to my touch like Monroe Abandonato. In a smooth motion, I lie across her body, careful to keep my weight on my elbows so I could hover.
“Your shirt is still on,” Mo said hoarsely.
“Right.” I looked down. “Odd, yours came off surprisingly fast for being almost dead a few hours ago.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Right, some barbarian just ripped it from my cold body.”
“Not cold,” I snapped, my right hand moving down her shoulder, stopping at her strap and then sliding it down her arm. “Hot, very, very hot.”
“Are you complimenting my skin?” She arched as I drew slow circles down her stomach and then tugged her other strap down.
“Yes, Mo. That’s what I’m doing. I’m complimenting your skin temperature because I’m a player like that, and that’s my game.”
“Game,” she panted as my fingers slid behind her back and unclasped her bra, “needs work.”
“Game,” I mock repeated, “hasn’t even started.” With a tug I threw her bra onto the floor and stared my fill. In all my years of living, I would never get used to seeing her naked body in all its glory. Damn, she was topless and it was like staring at the sun—utter perfection that I knew she was allowing me to mar with my hands, taint with my bloodlines, I narrowed my gaze on her stomach.
“You’re still so skinny.” My thumb caressed her belly button. I hoped the baby inside her, even though it wasn’t mine, was okay. I’d asked Stephen and he said when she was feeling better we could run tests, but for the most part if she miscarried, there would be more blood. Her injury had been bloody and if we hadn’t stopped the bleeding it could have been more serious—but as it was, she would just be really sore for a while.
“Tex.” Mo hissed out a breath. “Are we doing this or are we talking?”
“Oh.” I reared back, allowing the thoughts to dissipate. “I’m sorry, are you tired of talking? Need a little more caressing?” I tugged her shorts down and cupped her ass. “A bit more teasing? Nipping? Tugging? Pulling?” I lowered my head to her hipbone, licking around in lazy circles as she arched towards me.
“Damn it, Tex!”
“Aw, baby you know I love it when you scream my name.” I chuckled, fanned my breath across her stomach then replaced it with my tongue. Tasting Monroe Abandonato was my number one favorite thing to do in the entire world. Her taste was unique, totally her, and I coveted it more than a sane person should. Then again, I never claimed to be anything but insane so there you have it.
Mo’s fingers moved to my shirt, she tried to tug, but she was too weak from blood loss, which again reminded me that I probably shouldn’t be trying to seduce her, but my body had other plans. And damn if I didn’t want to mark her, brand her, fill her to the hilt and just bask in the fullness of what it was like to be inside her.
“Tex…” Mo dropped her hands from my shirt with a sigh of frustration. “I’m going to need a little help here.”
“Say please.” I straddled her and slowly lifted my shirt up to my head but didn’t pull it completely off yet. “I’m waiting…”
“You’re an ass, you know that right?” She wiggled beneath me.
“Keep doing that, I’ve got all the time in the world. Really, you’re not slowly killing me or anything by rubbing against me.”
“Take off your shirt!” she said through clenched teeth. “Please.”
“Aw, there it is… who taught you manners? Nixon?” I chuckled and could almost imagine that there wasn’t a chasm of anger and hurt between us… I imagined a world where I was the father of our child in earnest, where I was the hero, rather than the monster.