‘Evangeline... Don’t...’
He sounds gruff, pained, and I look into his eyes, see need shining back at me shrouded in fear.
‘Don’t what, Lucas? Press you for answers...?’ My lips brush against his as I speak. ‘Or do this?’
I tease the joining of his mouth with my tongue and his lashes flutter closed, his body shuddering on a stilted breath. And then he comes alive. His eyes open and there’s no hesitation, no fear, just the burning heat of desire as he forks his fingers in my hair and swings me back against the wall.
The first sweep of his tongue against mine turns my body molten, and the explosive heat swirling in the pit of my stomach is mounting the further he invades, the harder he moves over me. Hungry, fierce, possessive.
I match him move for move, telling him with my body what I want, what I need. No games, no taking control. This is about us. I feel as if I’m drowning in a multitude of emotions and sensations and I can’t cling to a single one. I’m hungry for them all.
‘If we let this go on I won’t stop,’ he says, intense.
I drag him back to me, press my body into his hardness. ‘I don’t want you to stop—not ever.’
Christ, that’s a sweeping statement, but I’m done holding back. I’m living for this moment.
He breaks away from me completely and I look at him, pleading. Please... Don’t stop...not now...
His eyes blaze at me and his jaw pulses with such tension. I know he wants me. I know it. I can feel it, for Christ’s sake.
Before panic truly sets in, he grasps my hand and starts to stride away. I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t care. As long as we’re together...as long as we complete this.
The foyer is vast, with several doors, and he pushes open the double doors that sit at the end.
The master suite. His master suite.
It’s masculine, stark, moody—so him.
He releases my hand but is still walking as he drags his sports tee over his head. I am rooted, just watching him—every muscle that ripples, the trace of sweat, the strength of his arousal as he turns to me and kicks off his shoes, his socks, his shorts, his boxers—
Oh, God.
Heat assaults my gut. Sheer, intense heat.
‘You owe me a shower,’ he grinds out.
My mouth is so dry I don’t think I can speak. Instead I lift my fingers to my blouse in answer and begin unbuttoning it. All the while I watch him. Watch how he follows my fingers and his cock lifts. A whimper sounds in my throat. I can’t contain it. I feel as if I’ll burst if I don’t have him soon.
He draws in a breath, flexing his fists at his sides, and then he’s across the room before I know it, his hands on my blouse, parting it, thrusting it down my body. The force of the move spikes my libido, making my tummy contract with the rush.
‘Too slow,’ he complains, yanking it free of my wrists and tugging me against him so hard I gasp.
The heat of his body sears my bare skin, my breasts surge within my bra and his impressive arousal presses between us, making the dull ache down low a pulsing knot.
He reclaims my mouth, his tongue plundering, taking my all.
‘I can’t believe you kept this from me.’
He says it between kisses, as if at any moment I might pull away, and I know he’s referring to my No Kissing rule.
‘You feel incredible. You taste incredible.’
He sounds like a man half-starved, and I cling to him as he reaches down my back, his fingers grazing over my tingling skin to unzip my skirt. He forces it down my hips, letting gravity do the rest as he drops his hands to cup my arse, drawing me harder against him.
He pulses between us, a growl erupting low in his throat, and I raise my leg to hook it around him, encouraging him closer, bringing his rigid length right up against my clit. Pleasure ripples through me, and his mouth swallows my moan as he keeps on kissing me.
And I’m kissing him back. Intense, possessive. As if we’re branding one another with our claim.