His vision blurred a little as his hands slid up under her shirt to find warm, soft skin. Again, that strange ache overcame him, a need born of long deprivation—and it wasn’t necessarily for sex.
Something about her… What was it about her...?
He didn’t know and couldn’t care with the rush and pound of heat burning out all coherent thought. It was her doing, her hands under his shirt, light fingertips fluttering up his stomach, thumb brushing the ridge between his pecs. She arched in the grip of his palms, and trembled too, breath short and fast under his ear.
“Nervous?” he murmured against her temple, to tease her.
“Just ignore the shakes. I’m good. This happens to me all the time.”
“All the time?” He dipped his head to kiss, brushed his mouth against her lips.
“Oh yeah. Sex with strange men in the middle of the workday. People after me. You bet.”
He dipped again, this time to pick her up. One of her shoes clattered to the floor. She toed off the other one.
“Good,” he said. “We’ll put that experience to use. You can be on top.”
Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance by Jennifer Ashley, Alyssa Day, Felicity Heaton, Erin Kellison, Laurie London, Erin Quinn, Bonnie Vanak and Caris Roane
CHAPTER 7
Jordan’s shakes only got stronger.
The button on her nice pants popped and went pinging on the floor. He had no respect for the longevity of her clothes. No respect at all. She was on top, straddling his lap, but he was sitting up, too, peeling off her layers with hands so hot she thought they’d brand her. She didn’t care if they did. She barely managed to get his shirt over his head, and then gulped at the raw beauty of what had to be the most finely tuned male body she’d had the privilege to touch.
Every inch was ridged with taut muscle, and the way it moved under his skin—holy hell—she was in trouble. He was as dangerous in the waking world as he was in dreams.
Truth was, it’d been a few months—like, twelve—since she’d been with anyone. The guys she’d dated in the meantime had been easy to shrug off for one reason or another. She wasn’t going to go to bed with anybody who was just cute or funny—he had to be boyfriend material at least.#p#分页标题#e#
Malcolm Rook defied categorization.
He made her clothes feel hot and tight, her heart and breath go out of sync, and her awareness shift to the ache high up between her thighs. She was liquid with want, and clumsy going about satisfying it, as if she hadn’t known her own body could feel like this. Actually, she hadn’t. This was the stuff of novels with—yeah—men like him on the cover.
“You’re right about the light,” he said, stroking the column of her neck down to her cleavage. “Your skin’s like rose gold. Perfect. “
“We should keep the bed here.” Where the light would serve her better than shining on her paintings.
He chuckled as he managed the clasp of her bra. She felt the release of her breasts as the lace was pulled and thrown away, then a higher, harsher lift as his mouth and hand took over its job.
For the love of—
The rough scrape of his teeth on her nipple blinded her. She had only his shoulders to grab, his back to score, since his mouth was busy. She had no way to give back except to rock her hips against his erection, which she was sure was perfect like the rest of him.
It was desperately wrong and sad that they both still wore pants. He should be locked into her already, deep, like a lightning rod directing all the energy buzzing around them to one primal connection. She didn’t care if she died from the shocks. The lack was so strong that she tightened her arms around him and leaned to the side to bring him down.
He cooperated and ended up on top, dragging the pants and panties from her hips, again with no regard for her ever wearing them again. She used her feet to peel his jeans down his legs. His boxers got caught on the huge thing reaching toward her, so he had to unhook and discard those himself. He grabbed a foil packet from his wallet.
When he settled on top of her, she was trembling hard again.
“So, um—” She had to arch against him; her body demanded it. His weight, the heat of his skin on her belly, her breasts, her leg twining around his as if it had a mind of its own—all of it was exquisite beyond anything she had ever known. She’d dreamed about feeling like this, yes, and he had a way of making dreams and life merge together.
“Yeah?” He’d braced one arm above her, arm muscle flexing. God, he had great shoulders. His other hand stroked around her waist to her ass, reached a secret spot just inside her thigh and adjusted her hips so that—