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  He reaches down, cups my ass in his hands and presses me even more firmly against his long, hard cock. And he is hard, so fucking hard that I’m sure he’s suffering for it. So fucking hard that I’m shocked he hasn’t already tried to get inside me.

  Instead, he’s taking his time. Skimming his fingers along the nape of my neck, pressing kisses to the hollow of my throat, urging me to take what I want—what I need—from him as I lift and lower myself over him.

  I’m not used to men who treat me like this, who put my needs first and work so hard to take care of me. I haven’t been with many men—when things went sour with Garrett it turned me off relationships in a big way—but I know enough to understand that this isn’t normal. To understand that Kian treats me like I’m special.

  The thought sends equal jolts of fear and pleasure shooting through me. Because that’s how I get hurt—thinking I’m special. Thinking I matter, when it’s been proven over and over again to me that I don’t. I can’t afford to think like that about Kian, about His Royal Hotness who also happens to be the twin brother of the first man I ever loved.

  But knowing and feeling are two totally different things, especially now when the feel of him against my most vulnerable part only makes me want more. Not now, when Kian is turning my insides to molten lava with each skim of his fingers across my back and each stroke of his tongue against my own.

  He tastes good, so good. Like dark coffee. Like rich cream. Like wild waves crashing against the seashore. It’s a taste I could spend hours—days—exploring and still never get enough of.

  But I don’t have hours, don’t have days. All I have are these few stolen moments and even those are slipping away from me, slipping through my fingers like time in Kian’s tattoo.

  He must feel the same way, because he lifts his head with a muffled curse.

  For long seconds I can do nothing but drag great gulps of air into my tortured lungs. I’d probably be embarrassed by how long it takes me to catch my breath if he wasn’t doing exactly the same thing with exactly the same intensity.

  Once I can breathe again—once I can think again—I work on uncurling my fingers from the death grip they have on his hair. It’s harder than it sounds, especially when I want nothing more than to hold on to him as tightly as I can.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine.

  “Wow, His Royal Hotness sure can be profound when he wants to be.” I try to sound teasing, but it comes out breathless instead.

  He just snorts. “You want profound, you probably shouldn’t kiss me like that.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kissed me.”

  “Best decision I’ve made in a long, long time.” He starts to pull away, but I give up the battle not to touch him as I slide my fingers back into his hair in an effort to keep his face against my own for just a few moments longer.

  He looks funny like this, his nose squished and bright green eyes sliding toward the center of his face, becoming one. The fact that I like the way he looks, even now, is more worrisome than my response to the kiss could ever be.

  I slide my hands over his shoulders and down his back, then circle them around to his chest, where I clutch at the thin material of his T-shirt. As I do, my nails scratch gently against his pecs and his eyes grow even brighter, to a brilliant neon green that I want nothing more than to fall straight into.

  Then his hand is fisting in my hair and he’s kissing me and kissing me and kissing me, until I lose the breath I just got back.

  Until my lips burn and my jaw aches.

  Until my whole body goes up in flames and all I can think about, all I can want, is him.

  I whimper, my lower body rocking against the hardness of his. Kian groans in response, slides his hand down my body to once again grab my hips, my ass. And then he’s moving me against him in a rhythm that makes me hotter, takes me higher, has me growing wetter and wetter with each clench of his fingers against me.

  “Kian!” I manage to gasp against his mouth as the heat—the need—builds and builds inside of me.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he growls. “I’ve got you.” Then he’s skimming his mouth across my jaw, down my throat, to the bend where my neck meets my shoulder. He bites down gently, then laves the small hurt with his tongue before doing it again and again and again.

  Pressure builds inside me with each lick of his tongue over my skin, with each clench of his fingers against my hips, with each thrust of his hard cock against my aching sex. My breath hitches in my throat, my body moving of its own volition now, and Kian groans a little at my response even as he bends to press his hot mouth against my fabric-covered breast.

  With a strangled gasp, I arch my back, press closer. He laughs a little—a dark, sexy, tortured sound—then sucks my nipple into his mouth. I can feel the heat even through the fabric of my bra and shirt and it feels good, so good. I tell him so, my voice shaky—shredded—with need. He responds with a groan and a powerful thrust of his hips against my own. Then he’s biting down gently, gently, gently, and my body’s going off like fireworks on New Year’s Eve.

  He works me through it, his mouth drawing on my nipple and his hands lifting and lowering me against his cock as I come and come and come.

  When it’s over, I collapse into him, my face buried in his neck, my heart beating hard against his own. Long moments pass as I try to get myself together. He’s still hard and I want to return the favor, want to make him feel as good as he made me feel. But I’m wrecked, shuddering and gasping and so weak that—for long seconds—I can’t do anything but lean against him and tremble.

  And he lets me. He doesn’t push for more, doesn’t try to take what I’ve so obviously offered. Instead, he rocks me, with his arms around me and his fingers tracing soothing patterns on my back. He whispers in my ear, presses soft kisses to my cheek. It’s tender and sweet and so exactly what I need after the most explosive orgasm of my life.

  When I can finally breathe again, when my hands are no longer shaking and aftershocks are no longer shooting randomly along my nerve endings, I reach for him. I fumble with his belt, run my palm along the long, thick, denim-covered hardness of his cock.

  Chapter 15

  Kian

  God, she’s touching me, her hands brushing against me, and all I can think is if she does it again I’m going to lose my mind. And my ability to function. And I’m going to do it all in full view of her front windows.

  Reaching down, I place my hands over hers in an effort to stop her.

  “But I want to,” she interrupts as she skims her hands over my shoulders and down my chest. “I want to make you feel good.”

  “You do, baby.” I cup my hands around her ass, then stand up, taking her with me. But I lose my train of thought when she squeals and throws her arms around my neck, wrapping her long, beautiful body around mine even as she blows a long, slow stream of air into my ear.

  “Fuuuuuck.” The word escapes without my permission, my hands clenching on her hips of their own volition. Part of me is afraid I’m pushing it, pushing her, but shit. How am I supposed to help it when she’s warm and willing and wrapped around me like a vine? Her hands feel so fucking good—she feels so fucking good—that I can barely breathe as she tugs my T-shirt over my head and tosses it behind us. Then her hands are just there, her talented fingers gliding over my pecs, along my rib cage, down my torso.

  More curse words catch in my throat and I arch helplessly against her, my dick desperate for any attention she wants to give it.

  Savvy laughs then, and this time when our eyes meet, hers are a little less sleepy, a little more focused. It’s what I’ve been waiting for, and when she teases the tips of her fingers across my chest, I let go of the last of my reservations and give myself over to whatever she wants from me.

  “Is this okay?” she asks as her fingers circle my too-sensitive nipples again and again and again.

  I bow my head, press my forehead to hers.
“Sweetheart, anything you want to do to me is okay.”

  Her grin is wicked, her eyes even more so, when she tells me, “You should be careful giving me carte blanche over your body. How do you know I won’t abuse it?”

  “I trust you,” I answer, because it’s true. And because I want her to know that she can trust me, too. That she can let her guard down without worrying that I’m going to hurt her like Garrett did. Because I won’t. I can’t.

  I see my message register in her eyes, feel it in the way her body sags against mine just a little.

  “Still all right?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything more.

  “Yes,” she murmurs, before pressing hot kisses against my jaw. My mouth. My throat.

  I tilt my head back on a groan, let it fall back on my neck as Savvy licks and kisses and sucks her way across my collarbone. I want to return the favor, want to kiss and touch and worship every inch of her, but I don’t want to push her. Don’t want her to think this is just some one-night stand where I get my rocks off and then walk away the second I’m satisfied.

  Because it isn’t. Maybe it’s been that way a million times before with dozens of other women—but not this time and not with her. She—

  “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Her hands are on my stomach now, her fingers lightly teasing around my belly button, over my V-cut, down the happy trail leading to my—

  “Fuuuuuuck,” I say again. I swear, she’s reduced my vocabulary to that one word, and reduced my entire existence to the feel of her soft, cool hands on my skin.

  Knowing it’s now or never, I start moving, heading toward the back of the room and the hallway there that I desperately pray leads to Savvy’s room.

  She gasps again, wraps herself around me. The pressure of her—the feel of her warm, slick, soft heat—has my knees trembling as I try to get us both out of the eye of the street. Yeah, it’s the middle of the night and no one is around, but I figure better safe than sorry. Especially since my detail is still out there, at this point probably trying to look anywhere but at the window.

  When I get to two doors, I mutter, “Which one’s your room?” against her hot cheek.

  “On the left,” she answers with a whimper, and then she’s untangling herself from around me, sliding down my body with the agility of a dancer.

  As soon as we make it to her room, she pulls off her clothes, stripping the offending pieces of cloth off her body and sending them flying. Then she’s once again reaching for my belt and this time, I help her. She’s got talent though, and it’s only seconds before my jeans and underwear are on the ground.

  Only seconds before she’s cupping my balls and wrapping her other hand around my dick. It feels so good I can barely breath—she feels so good. I arch into her touch, and she tightens her grip so that I see stars every time she slides her palm over me. Then she’s bending to lick her way over my throat before continuing her way down my chest so she can take my nipple in her mouth.

  Heat gathers at the base of my spine at the contact, crazy-intense pleasure rocketing through me from all the different places her body is touching mine. All the different ways she’s making me insane. Normally I’m not very good at ceding control, but if this is the reward it gets me, I’ll hand control over to Savvy any time she wants it.

  “Is this okay?” she whispers against my skin. “Do you like it?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Yes, yes, God, yes.”

  Her lips are still pressed against my chest, and I can feel her smile in my skin. “Good,” she murmurs, right before she drops to her knees in front of me.

  I reach for her, try to pull her up. “Baby, you don’t have to—”

  She swats my hands away. “I want to.”

  And then she’s leaning forward, licking and nuzzling her way along my dick. “Fuck,” I say again, and it’s become my mantra. Become the only coherent sound I can still make. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  I don’t even know if I’m saying it out loud at this point or if it’s just in my head. And I couldn’t care less, not when Savvy’s on her knees in front of me, her beautiful mouth pressing kisses to my stomach, my balls, the tip of my cock.

  I want to stay like this forever, want to feel her mouth on my dick every second of my existence. The way she leisurely licks along my length, her tongue soft and warm and so fucking talented is my favorite thing ever. At least until she pulls my balls into her mouth, gently sucking on them, and I lose even the ability to think “fuck,” let alone say it.

  Some garbled noise comes out of my mouth as pleasure slams through me, and she laughs at me a little. Not that I care—I’m too caught up in the feel of her hands and lips and tongue to worry about anything else. Too caught up in the ecstasy tearing through me to do anything but stand here and let her have her way with me.

  Pleasure sizzles along my nerve endings. Runs through my blood. Takes over my every organ, my every vein until all I can feel is her. Until all I can smell or taste or breathe is Savvy.

  A little dizzy and a lot overwhelmed, I tangle my fingers in her hair in a desperate attempt to hang on to something. To hang on to her.

  She glances up at me then, her lips red and swollen and obscene looking, and I swear I almost come from the sight of her mouth alone. A problem that’s only exacerbated when I glance up and realize I can see Savvy’s beautiful back reflected in the mirror over her dresser.

  I stare at our reflection for long seconds, watching my hands as they tangle in her long, glorious hair. Watching her back as it bows and bends with each brush of her body against my own. Watching her head as it bobs forward with each streak of her tongue across my cock.

  Somehow it gets me even hotter, ratcheting up my need for her another thousand degrees or so, until the need to come is a pressure on my spine and an ache in my belly.

  In an effort to distract myself, I glance away from the mirror for just a few seconds. But it doesn’t do me any good because now I’m looking at her all spread out in front of me, watching that beautiful mouth firsthand as she leans forward and takes just the tip of my cock in her mouth.

  A glance back at the mirror shows her back arched, her hand clenched on my hip, her jaw working as she sucks me slowly, slowly, slowly down her throat. I honestly don’t know which view is better.

  It’s incredible to see her like this, from the front and the back all at the same time. Incredible and intense and more arousing than I ever dreamed possible to see all of her even as I feel the wet heat of her mouth close around me.

  Savvy pulls me deep, takes me all the way in until I feel myself hit the back of her throat. I try to pull back, try to make it easier for her, but Savvy just cups my ass in her hands and pulls me forward. Pulls me even deeper until she’s taking all of me.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Pleasure slams through me, takes me over, encompasses me until all that I feel, all that I am, is centered around Savvy and her obscenely hot mouth. She’s barely gone down on me and already I’m so close to losing it that I can feel the pressure increasing at the base of my spine, can feel my orgasm welling up inside of me.

  What is it about this woman that makes me want her this badly? What is it about her wicked eyes and loves-to-fuck-with-me attitude interspersed with moments of vulnerability that drive me to the brink so quickly? I don’t know, and at the moment, I don’t really care. How can I when I’m held in thrall by her and her glorious, gorgeous mouth? Even the random thought of whether or not she’s done this with Garrett doesn’t stop the pleasure from crashing through me.

  I’m too far gone, and it sure feels like she is, too. Sure feels like she’s enjoying this as much as I am.

  Then she moans deep in her throat, and my teeth clench at the ensuing vibrations. She slides her tongue over and around my cock in circles that make my eyes cross and my jaw lock at the pleasure.

  I glance down at her, watch as she slides me back and forth between her cherry red lips. Her eyes are closed, her long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks as she tucks the head of my cock against
the roof of her mouth and once again slides me down her throat.

  “Look at me!” My voice is low, guttural, more animal than human as I force the words out. But she must understand, because her eyes fly open and she looks up at me. Our gazes lock as she takes me deep again and again and again, her tongue licking along the underside of my dick. Pleasure explodes through me, sweeping up from my balls to the base of my cock, taking me by surprise as she sucks a little harder, her tongue wriggling over the sensitive spot on the underside of my dick.

  “Fuck!” It’s a groan, a plea, a prayer for mercy, but Savvy is having none of it. Instead she takes me even deeper, her hands clenching on my ass as she works her throat convulsively around me.

  And just that easily I’m coming, emptying myself into her with a force that makes my head swim and my teeth ache. I try to pull out, but she won’t let me go. Instead, she holds me in place, taking all of it, swallowing me down and leaving my knees so damn shaky it’s all I can do not to fall on her.

  And still it isn’t enough. Still I want more. More of her and more of this mind-numbing pleasure. I’ve just had the most powerful orgasm of my life, just come down the throat of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and all I can think about is doing it again.

  But this is Savvy, smart, sexy, tentative Savvy, and the only thing I want more than to blow down her throat again is to make her feel as good as she’s made me feel.

  With that thought in mind, I untangle my fingers from the death grip I have on her hair. I wrap my hands around her upper arms, then pull her carefully to her feet, searching her face for any sign that she’s uncomfortable with what just happened between us.

  This isn’t how I thought it would go between us, isn’t what I had planned. I’d thought to take it slow, thought to give her so much pleasure that she forgot about Garrett, forgot about anyone else who has ever touched her. Instead, she blew my mind completely, made me lose all thought processes and control.