Chapter 82: Sly moves
BAM!
Asher had somehow managed to sneak into the women’s restroom, his rational mind screaming warnings he chose to ignore. He grabbed Maria’s wrist and pulled her into the furthest cubicle from the entrance, slamming her back against the cold tile wall. The impact echoed softly in the enclosed space.
"I want you to stop whatever the hell you did to me, you crazy psycho," He said, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to taste copper. The desperation in his voice surprised even him. Being this close to her was like standing too near a fire—every instinct told him to grab her, but something deeper kept him rooted in place.
She smiled then, slow and knowing.
"I did nothing," she said simply. Before he could process her words or form a response, she leaned forward and captured his lips with hers.
The kiss shattered what little control he’d been clinging to. His arms came around her with enough force to snap someone more fragile in half, pressing her against the wall as his mouth moved against hers with desperate hunger. His tongue swept past her lips, exploring every corner of her mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste of her. She made a soft sound—half moan, half sigh—that vibrated against his lips and sent electricity shooting through his nervous system.
He bit gently at her lower lip, then harder, drawing the air from her lungs as his hands roamed over the curves of her body. Her fitted sweater had ridden up slightly, and his fingers found the warm skin at her waist.
Slurp~
Her arms were moving too, fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with practiced ease.
"No!" The word tore from his throat as sanity crashed back over him like ice water. He shoved her back against the wall harder than he’d intended. Her head connected with the tiles with a soft thud, but instead of crying out in pain, she moaned—low and breathy and entirely too pleased.
She was grinning at him now, chest rising and falling rapidly, her dark hair slightly mussed and lips swollen from his kisses. The sight of her like this—disheveled and wanting—nearly undid him again.
"Fuck," he whispered, pressing the heels of his palms against his temples. He was falling into something dark and consuming, and the worst part was that he couldn’t even understand why. What was driving this madness?