That’s what. I got so lost in sensation that I forgot what was going on. He was supposed to see me with her and want me, not her. And from the way he was watching me, I could have sworn he was going to ask me to be with him.
I look over at them and notice that his hand is now wrapped around her neck. He’s claiming her.
Which means, he’s no longer claiming me.
My stomach churns with anxiety.
Anxiety over Levi being with someone other than me.
With him being turned on by anyone other than me.
With him even touching another woman, not me.
My eyes well up with frustration.
With irritation.
With apprehension that if I don’t do something, if I don’t make a move, he’ll fuck Samantha. Despite his attraction to me, he’ll realize that he can and will find someone else . . . as if I’m invisible. Replaceable. God knows my mom found it just as easy to walk away from me as if I meant nothing.
I shouldn’t be so emotionally invested in this, but I fucking like Levi Posey. We click in so many ways, more than I have with any other guy. And if he does this, and I know I won’t cope—I’ll have to give up my job. Is that what he wants? Me gone? Was this not a game to him? Does he want me gone too?
Do not let her off the hook. Don’t let her skate by. I want you to make her life a living hell, got it?
And mainly, don’t forget that she’s completely off limits.
No, I refuse to believe Levi truly doesn’t want me.
Please choose me, Levi.
I hurry through the couches after them.
I trip over the leg of a patron watching someone in one of the windows, but I regain my balance and adjust my top as I make my way down the hall, where I find Levi leading Samantha into a back room. I chase them, and right before the door closes, I stop it with my hand.
“Wait,” I say, feeling breathless.
Levi parts the door slightly and offers me a questioning brow. “What?” he asks.
I wet my lips and muster all the courage I can find. “Don’t fuck her, Levi. Please . . . please don’t fuck her.”
He straightens up and asks, “Why?”
“Because.” I twist my hands over my clutch as I try to find my words.
“Because. Why?” he asks, this time, taking a step forward and lifting my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him.
“Because I don’t want you fucking her.”
“Why not?” He’s not letting me get away with evasiveness. When I don’t respond right away, he believes I won’t answer and starts to shut the door again.
But I don’t let him as I step inside the room where I spot Samantha sitting on the edge of the bed, hands propped behind her, enjoying the show between Levi and me.
“Wylie, unless you have a reason—”
“Because I want you,” I say before I can stop myself. “I want you, Levi, for myself. So please, please don’t do anything with her. It will . . .” I choke out the last few words. “It will gut me.”
His hard-as-stone expression slowly softens before he turns to Samantha and says, “Give us space.”
She nods, and as she walks past us, she plucks her bra from his back pocket and then twiddles her fingers at me before stepping out of the room.
Levi slams the door, locks it, then spins me against the wall. I stare up at him, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as he cups my cheek and lowers his forehead to mine.
“I wasn’t going to fuck her,” he says softly.
“Then why did you bring her in here?”
“Because I wanted you to crack. I wanted you to admit that you want this, that you want me.”
My hand runs up his chest, and I say, “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you at the bar that one night. I’ve always wanted you, Levi.”
His eyes squeeze shut as his hands smooth down my sides. “Fuck, I shouldn’t.” His eyes open, and there’s clarity in them. “But I can’t fucking stop myself,” he says right before his mouth crashes down upon mine.
Thank God.
I could cry. This pent-up tension between us that’s been building finally releases as his mouth moves over mine, taking everything we’ve wanted from each other for so long.
And it’s just as electric as I remember.
He cups my ass and lifts me to pin me against the wall, giving him an easier angle. I wrap my legs around his waist and bring my hands to his face, where I marvel at his scruff and his carved jaw.
When his tongue runs across my lips, I part them open. He groans and presses into me more, his tongue dancing with mine, tangling, hungrily taking. I groan and shift my hand to the back of his head, playing with the short strands of his hair as he continues to own my mouth, showing me that I’m the one he wanted.
Not her.
Me.
He’s not walking away from me but choosing me.
“Fuck,” he grumbles as he wrenches his mouth from mine but then kisses along my jaw and then down my neck. His hands glide to my breasts, where he takes hold of the bra I’m wearing and tugs on it, tearing it right off my body. He tosses the fabric to the side, and then, with both hands, he cups my breasts, bringing one of my nipples to his mouth.
“Yes,” I cry out as I hold his head down, wanting him to play with me. “God, yes, Levi.”
His tongue swirls around my nipple, over and over again until he lightly nips on it, causing a hiss to escape my lips. Seemingly happy with my response, he repeats the same rhythm with his tongue, but instead of nibbling this time, he sucks . . . hard.
My fingers dig into his head, my legs quaking against him because it’s been so long. So freaking long since I’ve been treated like this, where the attention has been on my pleasure, not my counterpart’s.
“Your tits will be the death of me,” he says before he moves to the other breast and repeats the process, but while he sucks on one, he twists the other with his fingers. Plucking and pinching.
Fuck, it feels so good.
So amazing.
He releases my breast and brings his mouth back up to my neck, where he rubs his rough scruff along my sensitive skin, marring me and making me his. When his mouth reaches mine again, he lets out a deep breath before saying, “I need to fuck you.”
“Then fuck me,” I whisper.
He lets out a deep growl before releasing me back to the floor. He reaches for me, but I drop to my knees before he can and bring my hands to the zipper and button of his jeans.
He braces his hand against the wall behind me as I undo his jeans and lower them. Next, I bring my hands to the elastic of his briefs and pull them down as well, revealing the sexiest penis I’ve ever seen.
Wide-eyed, I watch it stretch upward, revealing an intricate set of tattoos on the underside, a stack of triangles that move upward toward the head of his cock.
“Oh my God,” I whisper before I look up at him.
He smirks.
“I need you in my mouth,” I say as I sit up on my knees and angle his cock to my lips. I rub the tip along my lips, making him groan before I barely take the head inside. I play with the tip, just with my lips, teasing him and making him wet before I take in another inch, and then another . . . and another.
“Jesus fuck,” he says as he leans farther into his propped-up arm.
I get him to spread his legs more, and as I suck him off, bobbing up and down over his length, I take his balls in my other hand and start fondling them, rolling them in my palm and lightly tugging, just enough to feel him grow in my mouth.
“That’s it, Wylie,” he mutters. “I like the pain.”
Hearing that, I decide to scrape my teeth along his cock and see how he likes that.
His hand falls to my head, and he grips my hair, tugging on it as he groans.
“Uhhh, fuck, Wylie. Again.”
Pleased, I dip my head forward, taking him to the back of my mouth, then I pull off, scraping my teeth along the underside while tugging on his balls at the same time.
“Yes,” he says while pounding his hand against the wall. “Again, baby.”