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He was as deep and dark as a cave, and I was standing right at his entrance. Should I go in or leave?

I made up my mind.

His lips parted in surprise as my finger slowly traced his collarbone, marveling at the warmth of his skin, at the smoothness of it. I thought I’d be satisfied just by feeling it, but I wanted to do more.

His muscles tensed as I moved my fingers to the long line of his neck, rubbing the stubble on his jaw, tickling myself.

I smiled but didn’t say anything. I usually had a lot to say, but I wasn’t myself right now. I was different when I was with him. I felt more beautiful, more aware of myself as a woman.

The pulse at the base of his throat jumped as I focused on his lips and continued my exploration there. They were full, pink, with a prominent Cupid’s bow.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and caught my finger between his lips, between his teeth, then with his tongue. And sucked.

I gasped, my eyes snapping to his as I snatched my finger away, feeling like my whole body was on fire.

There was so much emotion raging inside me. My skin prickled. I felt hot, itchy, needy. I wanted…more. Just more.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered. His voice was husky, more than a hint of frustration in it.

Where every move before had been disciplined, he now radiated restless energy. It felt like having a big, edgy cat in a small cage.

His eyes grew heavy, hungry. “I’m waiting for you to run away,” he said quietly.

When I didn’t reply, his arms fell dejectedly to his sides.

“I don’t want you to.”

I bit my lip at his confession. He made me feel wanted. That I shouldn’t deny myself what I wanted. Even just for this moment.

The way he looked at me felt like heat gliding across my skin. Hot, palpable, alluring.

He looked so good, so unapologetically male.

“Kara.”

I looked up at him. He held his hand out to me, palm up.

“Come here,” he said huskily.

As if in a trance, I placed my hand in his. His hand was wide, with long, tapered fingers, and rough, with calluses and scrapes. A working man’s hand. A capable, strong, gorgeous man.

My eyes shifted to his. There was a delicious hot curl in my stomach at the approval and hunger I saw in his eyes.

He kissed my palm and placed it on his chest. His hands banded on my hips, his fingers pressing intimately, possessively, as he sprawled on the couch, pulling me to him and settling me on his lap.

I gasped as our bodies made contact, as I straddled him. He was wide, and God, so big that my legs stretched to accommodate him.

Up close, he was even more beautiful. Almost unreal. His features were perfect, his skin creamy and smooth.

His hands slipped under my sweater, fingers stroking the skin on my lower back. I shivered at the delicious rough texture of them.

When his lips touched my ear, I jumped. He let out a deep, low laugh.

Butterflies whirled in my stomach at the sound. Even his laugh was sexy.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured.

He dragged his lips from my ear to my jaw, inhaling long and deep. My hands gripped his arms, waiting, wanting him to keep going, wanting to feel what was going to happen next.


Tags: Isabelle Ronin Chasing Red Romance