He brings my hand to his chin, slowly, then directs my hand outward, demonstrating the sign using my own hand. Even when he’s done, he doesn’t let go.
“I swear, that’s what I’m doing,” I tell him, my heart racing so fast, so potently, Clayton has to feel my pulse in my fingertips.
“Again,” he orders.
Instead of signing it, I take the fingers of his left hand and bring them to my chin.
Then, I bring them a bit higher, touching them to my lips.
His eyes lock onto mine. Oops. Have I awakened the beast?
Not yet. I part my lips, letting one of his fingers slip inside. It tastes salty. His skin is rougher than I expected, too. Seeing his reaction makes my heart race even more, how his lips part and an unblinking look of shock takes over his face, paralyzing him.
I gently nibble on his fingertip, staring at his dark eyes challengingly.
A growl, deep and wolf-like, escapes his lips like a warning.
A warning I don’t heed.
Then in one swift, powerful movement, he grabs my wrist with that hand I was tasting. I gasp, but I don’t stop him. I welcome him.
He jerks me forward, and our lips collide, catching one another’s clumsily, then locking.
His breath bathes my cheek, jagged and furious.
A hand reaches behind my head, tangling itself in my hair there and trapping me in place, holding me against his kiss. My arms are caught between our heavily-breathing bodies. I’m a prisoner to his mouth, and I’m not going anywhere.
Oh my god, he’s so strong and dominant when he kisses me. I have never felt anything more powerful. The way his lips make work of mine, it’s so like eating your favorite dessert that you have craved and been denied for so long. The power of his jaw alone …
And then his tongue … The taste throws me out of my mind, how perfect it is, how inviting he is …
My trapped hands find his chest. He is so firm and smooth that even through the tight shirt, I feel every ripple of muscle on his sinewy body, especially as they flex in his effort to destroy my mouth with his kiss. He is a mountain of meat and fury, and I want to explore every inch.
My fingers graze over his nipples daringly.
He moans in response, bucking under my touch.
Then his big hands grip me at the hips and, in one powerful thrust, he pulls me off the coffee table and throws me to the couch. I gasp against his kiss just as he pulls away, his animal eyes observing mine.
Is he asking permission?
Clayton Watts, you have it.
As if I need more convincing, he straddles me, then grips the bottom of his shirt. Oh god. He slowly tugs, sliding the material up his torso and giving me a show. Inch by inch, I’m exposed to a spread of abs—yes, there’s six of them, the whole sexy pack is there—and then his two hills for pecs that are simply perfect. The tattoo that crawls up his neck also crawls down his chest in a thorny nest of ink that makes him look exotic and dangerous.
He casts the shirt to the side, and the sight of a shirtless Clayton atop me is too much to behold. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. This isn’t real.
His slender, dimpled hips disappear down into his loose-fitting jeans, drawn tight over the meat of his big thighs, which trap me in place on the couch.
I am utterly pinned and totally at his mercy.
Then he bends down and nibbles on my neck, sending shivers of joy up and down my body as I squirm against him in pleasure.
The weight of his body presses down on mine, nearly taking the air out of me. I’m so dizzy with what he’s doing to my neck that I hardly notice. In fact, I welcome it, clinging to him in an animal effort to somehow fuse our bodies together.
Pressed against him, I experience a split second of wondering if we’re moving too fast.
The next split second, I’m crying out, “Oh my god!”
Clayton’s worked his way up to my ear, his tongue tracing my jawline. When he reaches my mouth again, the animals are reunited and I throw my arms around his shoulders, crushing his face into mine.
“Dessie,” he whispers when he pulls away for one fleeting breath.
“Clayton,” I agree to nothing in particular, each of our breaths blasting against the other’s face, before plunging our mouths back together.
Our lips locked, he lifts his chest and runs his hands down the length of my body until they reach my hips. His fingers tease under my top, tickling the sensitive skin there.
Oh god.
Slowly, cruelly, his mischievous fingers work their way back up, taking my top with it.
I sit up for one moment.
My top’s gone the next.
His face hovers over me as his hand trails down from the top of my lace bra to my exposed stomach, then traces the waistline of my jeans, flirting with the buttons. I feel a quiver of anticipation below. My legs squeeze together and I feel a jolt of excitement.