I look at Moses, feeling like the glare I’ve been sporting all evening is going to become the permanent expression on my face. If I need Botox after this, I’m sending Mr. Baller Rolls Royce the bill.
“You aren’t staying here.”
One of his thick shoulders rises and his bottom lip juts out. “That’s fine. Then you’re coming home with us.”
Anger at being maneuvered and ordered around lights me up with a streak of contrariness. No one tells me what to do. Not in a long damn time. But Moses doesn’t seem to understand, and neither does my body, based on the moment we had against the wall after dinner.
I form a new plan. Leaning back in the seat, I cross my arms. “With both of you?” I look from Moses to the attractive man holding my door open. “A ménage with this guy? Now you have my attention.”
The man who was lazily leaning back against the seat beside me swells with anger, seeming to double in size. “Shut the fucking door, Jules.”
Jules doesn’t reply, but the door closes before I can get the fuck out. Now I’m trapped inside with a seething Moses.
A sexy, seething Moses. I can feel the territorial masculinity rolling off of him like steam from a hot sidewalk after a sprinkle of rain.
He turns in his seat, crowding me against the door. “You want a reaction out of me, woman? You’ll get one. I meant what I said. Ain’t no other fucking man touching you until we’ve settled what’s between us. Damn it, you owe me that.”
My lower lip drops, which seems to be another new habit I’ve acquired against my will this evening.
“I don’t owe youshit, Moses.”
His face turns to stone. Thin lipped. Chiseled, hard-set jaw. No easy grin now. “You sure as fuck do. You wouldn’t even think about coming with me. You’re part of the reason we lost fifteen fucking years together too.”
I gasp. “You motherfucking asshole.” I surge forward in my seat and shove him with both hands. “You left me! You wouldn’t stay!”
“I couldn’t! Not without putting you in danger. You think that’s the kind of man I am? One who would put his woman at risk? No fucking way, Magnolia.”
I shake my head, fury causing unshed tears to burn like acid in my eyes. “Let me out of this fucking car. I’m done with this little reunion of yours. Whatever you came for, you won’t find it. Go, Moses. There’s nothing for you here now.”
He reaches out and yanks me across the center seat, pulling me against him. “Bull fucking shit, Magnolia.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and I declare temporary insanity.
His scent. His taste. His touch.
I desperately want to push him away, but I can’t. The one thing I never thought I’d have again ... I allow my body to take over, and I fucking maul him. My nails dig into his shoulder and the back of his neck as I cling to his rigid muscles, my tongue demanding entrance into his mouth.
God, I need more. More. More.
I don’t even know how it happened, but his hands grip my waist, bringing me down on his lap as my knees dig into the leather on either side of his hips. I grind hard against one heavy thigh, not caring that my dress is riding up.
Moses shifts his grip, spearing a hand into my hair and pinning me against him.
Fuck.It feels too good. Too right. Too perfect.
“Inside,” he says into my mouth as he shifts me to drive his hips up and the hard ridge of his cock against my clit. “Inside. Now.”
His voice brings me to my senses.
What the fuck am I doing?Letting a man waltz into my life and tell me what to do after he bailed for fifteen years, whatever the reason? No. Not tonight I’m not.
I try to move away, but Moses keeps my forehead pressed against his.
“For fifteen goddamned years I’ve wanted to be able to fuck and not think of you. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
More than I’ll ever admit to him.
I freeze in his arms. “Let me go. Now.”