Page 95 of The Heart Breaker

Something at my side makes me look over, and I find the brunette from before standing there, her eyes moving between us with a confused frown.

“I’m not fighting you for his attention,” I say. “You can have him.”

I turn on my heel, but I only make it to the bottom of the stairs before fingers close around my wrist and spin me around. “Don’t do this,” he grits out. “Don’t make up some bullshit in your head and then get pissed at me for it.”

“I’m not making anything up. I know what I am to you. I know you hate yourself for wanting me. So congratulations. Your conscience is clear, because this? Whatever the hell this is? It’s over.”

Something shifts in his face. “Like hell it is.”

I lift a shoulder, even with my pulse hammering. “You don’t want to want me? Great. Lucky you.” I jerk my hand back toward the brunette. “Go sleep with her. If you haven’t already.”

I move to step past him and head up the stairs.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he says, following me.

“Good for you.”

“I don’t even know her name.”

“Don’t care.”

“Goddamn it,” he bites out, catching me as soon as we’re at the top and hauling me back toward him. “What do you want meto say, Aurora?” he spits out. “That I came here tonight for you? That I hate parties and small talk and this cheap alcohol, and yet I keep showing up. Over and over.” His throat bobs. “Because there’s a chance you’ll be there?”

My breath catches in my throat when his eyes drop to my mouth, tugging me that tiny inch closer until my chest brushes his, but before I can get a word out, his hand slides in mine and he heads down the hallway, trying every door until he finds one unlocked.

The second the door shuts, he crowds me back until my hips hit the edge of the dresser. His hands are already under my top, shoving it higher impatiently.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs against my skin, throwing my top to the floor. “I swear to God, Prescott, I can’t think straight when you’re near me.”

He palms my ass through the skirt, squeezing hard, making my breath catch, every part of me wanting him so bad that all rational thinking flies out the window.

“Turn around,” he grits out, and I do, bracing my hands on the dresser.

He bunches my skirt higher around my hips and drags my panties down my legs, spreading me open and groaning at the sight. “You really think I want anyone else?” he mutters, sliding his thumb through my pussy. “You think I can stand looking at anyone else?”

I wish I had something better to say, but all that comes out is a shaky breath as my hips tilt toward him. He drops to his knees, holding me exactly where he wants me as he drags his tongue against me, devouring me.

Some men really can’t eat pussy. Cole Ellis, unfortunately, is obscenely good at it.

“Fuck,” I moan, my nails scraping the wood as he licks me until my legs buckle.

He stands and slaps my ass, pulling a gasp out of me. I hear his belt hit the floor, and then his cock nudges at my entrance before he pushes inside me, slow and deep, filling me so fully my vision blurs.

He groans, sinking deeper, then slides his hand up to grip my jaw and turn my face toward the mirror. “Look.”

Our reflection stares back at me. My face flushed, hair stuck to my cheek, looking wrecked as Cole thrusts into me.

“Who’s fucking you, Aurora?” he growls into my ear.

“Fuck you,” I breathe, even as my body betrays me, tightening around him.

He drags his cock out of me slowly. “Tell me,” he says, scraping his teeth over my shoulder. “Who’s fucking you?”

I want to keep my mouth shut.

I want to win, just once.

But then he fills me with one quick, hard thrust and the answer tears free on a broken moan. “You are.”