Y-yes. Thank you. Even Vivienne acknowledged that this seemed too formal a conversation to be having with the man who’d done wickedly delicious things to her not two nights ago.
There was no reply. He continued to stare at her. Vivienne zoned in on his face. She almost gasped by what she saw in his eyes. Want, need, desire. Conall was staring at her like she was a particularly tasty treat, and he wanted to eat her all up. Pronto.
She heard a slight growl in her mind that served to confirm what she was thinking, and shuddered. Blinking rapidly, she swallowed and crossed her legs, before uncrossing them. She’d been out here for a while; her mother was probably ready to teach her something else.
Are you going to run?
The window went back up and the door opened. Conall stepped down. He’d changed his clothing and now wore a black leather jacket that stopped at his waist, loose navy jeans, and dark boots. He leaned back against the truck as a devilish smile touched his lips.
Vivienne slowly came to her feet.
I’m not running from anyone, especially you. That was the defiant part of her speaking but instinct told her to turn around and sprint back inside. So what, the sun had not yet gone down, so what the neighbors could see them…something in his stance, in the way he looked at her, told her he didn’t give a damn.
Really? Pity…I want you to.
Before she could fully think through her decision, her body turned and sprinted for the door. A rush of adrenaline she’d never felt poured through her veins and triumph soared through her when her fingers grazed the doorknob. That was all they did. Graze it. As soon as she tasted victory, she felt him behind her. She was still moving forward, intent on pushing the door in, when he spun her around and pulled her against him.
“You’re fast.” His breath caressed her lips and she found herself licking them as she struggled to control her breathing. His eyes were drawn to her tongue as it snaked out, and remained on her lips when she was finished. “Very fast. But not as fast as me.”
Captured as she was, at his mercy, only an impish devil could have made her say, while snaking her hands up his chest to grab his jacket, “Not yet.”
His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush up against his heat. Conall’s eyes flashed yellow and Vivienne was reminded of the creature she’d seen him morph into. Hours ago, that might have freaked her out enough to push away from him, but something had changed. She was being driven purely by instinct, and she found herself entranced by the color.
She licked her lips again, and Conall’s head swept down. As soon as his lips touched hers, she moaned and gave him further access. His tongue was heaven, caressing, possessing. She shuddered, holding on the lapels of his jacket as her body began to burn. Thousands of flames danced across her skin as her blood boiled. Her hands snaked around his neck to pull him closer—as close as they could get through layers of clothing.
His hands moved down to her buttocks as he pressed her firmly against his stiff erection. Vivienne whimpered then, rubbing against him in frustration, before opening her eyes and noticing, with her heightened vision, that a few of the neighbors were staring directly at them.
“Is that the judge’s daughter?” Someone was saying.
“Probably the tree-hugging one—what was her name again? She’s always been the wilder of the two. I wonder if her father knows….”
Mortification made her put space between their bodies, but she was too far gone to stop. She looked into his eyes, found herself lost in them. Grabbing his hand, she pushed the door open and pulled him through.
Her eyes and ears did a quick scan of the foyer before she shoved him against the door, and launched at him. Her tongue dueled his, she gyrated with uncontrollable need, until he spun them so that she was against the door and he was the aggressor. She released a frustrated growl as he nipped at her lips while maneuvering his hands under her layers of clothing to caress her sensitive skin. His hands suddenly disappeared and she whined briefly until she recognized he was tugging the zipper of her jacket down. She wore a long sleeved NYU-Track and Field shirt and a sports bra underneath. His hands were under the shirt and had settled over the elastic material covering her breasts when the doorbell sounded.
They might have been able to ignore that, as caught up as they were, but what followed was a barrage of desperate thumps to the door that had Vivienne shrieking and Conall pivoting them away. As she stood behind him, rearranging her clothes, he approached the peephole and looked through.
“Mom! Dad!” Cassie’s slightly hysterical voice came through the door.