Page 67 of The Kiss Thief

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“Put your hands above your head,” I said, turning around to face her.

She arched an eyebrow, still staring at the wall.

“If you continue staring at it, I’ll have to give you a good reason to.”

“Such as?” I piqued her interest. That was my in.

“I’m thinking about a life-size portrait of myself.”

“My idea of a nightmare,” she mumbled.

“With Sterling standing above my seated figure, holding one of her novels.”

She bit her lower lip, stifling a smile. “You’re not funny, Senator.”

“That may be, but I’ll have plenty of time to find your brand of humor. Hands above your head, Nem.”

She turned her head to look at me, her eyes two pools of misery. Misery I created, adding drops of it every single day I kept her here. I didn’t look away. I faced the result of my sins.

“I’m still sore.” She was first to break the eye contact, looking down.

“I know,” I whispered. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because if you stop trusting, you’ll end up like me, and that’s a miserable existence.”

Hesitantly, she curled her fingers around the edge of the headboard. My heart squeezed at the implication of her obedience. She wore the same simple, pastel lilac nightgown that she’d covered herself with yesterday. It rode up her smooth, milky white thighs. I dragged my hand from my knee to her inner thigh, massaging the sensitive area for a few minutes, loosening her bundled muscles. At first, she was as stiff as a stone, but when I moved to the other thigh and she realized I wasn’t going to go anywhere north without her permission, she began to relax under my hands.

“I won’t hurt you,” I assured her, sliding her underwear gently down her thighs, “in the bedroom,” I finished.

“You did yesterday,” she pointed out.

“And I apologize for that. From here on out, I’ll make sure it will always be good for you.”

“You said you don’t care about making it good for women.”

I said those words before I nearly raped you.

Not that I actually did in the eyes of the dry law. She asked for it. She begged for it. Got down on her knees for it. But it was to prove a point. We both knew she didn’t enjoy it. We both knew I took something from her I did not deserve.

Her eyes met mine as I spread her thighs, sliding my thumbs toward her slit and rubbing circles in the sensitive area near her groin. I did not bow down to anyone, much less a Rossi. But I wasn’t bowing down to Nemesis, I was merely making my own point. That sex was great, if done right, and if both participants were on the same wavelength.

“Don’t move your hands,” I ordered, my voice hardening with lust. I saw her chest rising and falling in a mix of anticipation and fear. I could work with that. Her legs quivered with adrenaline before I even laid my tongue on her. I slid her nightgown up and tossed it over her shoulder, exposing her pink, coin-like nipples.

Wretchedly gorgeous.

Wickedly innocent.

Irrevocably mine.

After she was completely exposed to me, I took off my shoes, socks, dress pants, blazer, and dress shirt until I remained with nothing but my black Armani briefs. Another thing I didn’t do often—get naked in front of a woman. Sex wasn’t indulgent. For me, it was an outlet. I rarely fucked my flings in a bed, opting for quickies, and even when I did, it usually didn’t last past my climax. Nemesis stared at my hard-on through my briefs, curiosity and dread swimming in her cerulean eyes.

“Do you want to see it?”

She nodded, blushing. Something inside me burned hot.

“Would you like to see all of me? You will not have to touch me. Tonight’s all about you.”

She swallowed, biting the corner of her lower lip. Carefully, I took down my briefs, standing completely naked in front of her. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened and tried reason with myself that the concept of marrying someone forced you into lowering your walls, but that didn’t mean they were going to be broken. There was going to be a lot of bathroom and Jacuzzi and shower and mirror sex in the years to come. It made no difference if she saw me naked today, tomorrow, or in a month. I joined her in her bed and settled between her legs, cupping her cheeks. I lowered myself down to her and kissed her, gently at first, before squeezing her jaw open, wrestling my tongue against hers, licking the corners of her mouth and sucking her lower lip the way that drove her crazy.

Her muscle memory kicked in instantly, and she remembered all the times before last night. She moaned, responding to my peace offering by removing her hands from the headboard and tracing my jaw with her fingers.


Tags: L.J. Shen Romance