It’s possessive, animalistic. Otherworldly.
And feels so goddamn good. A way to sate the beast inside me.
Her gaze falls to my lips as she continues dry-humping me, hesitation clear among the chaotic clash of emotions in her perfect irises. “What are we doing?”
“Whatever the fuck I want, kitten. Think you can keep up?”
A soft gasp escapes her as I wrap my free arm around her waist, her breasts resisting against my chest, and I use the brief loss of reality to dip my mouth to her throat. She smells so fucking delicious—vanilla and something citrusy, alluring and hypnotic.
Gliding my nose along the smooth skin of her neck, I follow the trail with my lips, reveling in the way she shudders in my grasp.
This is exactly what I’ve wanted since that first day in the cemetery.
Everything else can wait.
“Youdruggedme,” she whispers, her fingers reaching up to curl into my hair. She pulls at the roots like she’s trying to weed a garden, and I grunt at the pressure.
“You broke into my house.”For reasons I’ve yet to understand.But there’s still time to find answers. To have her open up to me. For now, I want nothing more than to bury myself so deep inside her, to embed myself in her soul, she’s never able to sever the tie between us.
“This is insane.”
Yes, yes I am.I grin against her skin, nipping lightly and rearing my head back. Fisting her hair tighter, I slant her head and lick the tip of her nose. “All the best things are.”
And when I fuse my mouth to hers, a kaleidoscope of colors bursts behind my eyelids, arousal coupling with the realization that it’s been years since I’ve kissed anyone, propelling me off a proverbial cliff, no parachute or landing pad in sight.
Chapter 12
Kieran
Juliet softens beneath me, melting like chocolate left in the sun. Her lips sear into mine, blazing a path straight through my body; a firestorm ignites on my tongue, ecstasy electrifying my nerve endings, tearing a gasp from my lungs at the contact.
My hands fly to the back of her head, fingers tunneling into her golden tresses and holding her against me. The sensual assault dizzies me, and I squeeze my eyes tight in an attempt to ward off the shock of it all.
Our flesh sizzles where we connect, sparks shooting down my spine, and she moves her head beneath my grip, deepening the kiss. She breathes a soft moan into me as her tongue slips teasingly past my lips, just the tip darting out to lash against my teeth.
A siren, beckoning a sailor to chase.
To capture.
Ruin.
I growl low in my throat as my mouth pursues hers; she tries to pull away and disentangle herself from me, but there’s no chance I’m letting her go now. Not when I’ve finally gotten a taste of Heaven.
If this is as close to paradise as a man like me gets, I’m drawing out my stay.
Cupping the back of her skull and tilting her head back even further, I shove my tongue into her mouth, sweeping inside the wet warmth, seeking hers out. It wars with mine, a battle of wills we’re both on the verge of losing.
Her hands slip from my shoulders and claw into the back of my neck, dragging me even closer. The slight bite of pain from her fingernails sends a wave of fiery arousal over me, and one of my hands drops to her waist in an attempt to steady myself.
She shifts, pushing her hips closer to mine, the delicate curve of her ass entirely too prominent through the thin material of her leggings. I release her head, letting my palms skate down her slender back. My fingers press into the ridges of her spine on the descent, making her shiver and arch into me; she moans against me, the sound impossibly soft and feminine, everything a woman like Mel can never be.
Genuine and sensual. Naturally pornographic without even trying.
My hands pause at the top of the swell of her ass, and I can’t stop myself from curling them, manhandling her. Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of her leggings, I don’t pull away from her mouth as I begin working them down over her waist.
After a moment, when I’ve bared the smallest fraction of her smooth, creamy flesh, she tenses, dropping so her ass is flush with my thighs, halting me. There’s a sheen of something unfamiliar—fear, lust, and confusion, the stuff she keeps hidden—reflecting in her eyes. They’re wide, vulnerable, and the way she stares makes something deep within me shift, a tectonic plate moving at the start of an earthquake.
Clearing her throat, she begins climbing off my lap, trying to readjust her pants—but I don’t let go of the fabric, balling it in my fists, yanking her even closer. “Don’t fucking run from me,” I whisper, my voice harsh even with the softened speech.