Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(26)

I finger her nipple, softly at first, and then rougher, tugging and teasing. Soft sounds of pleasure slide from her parted lips, her body arching toward my touch. She is all but panting, telling me she is as on edge as I am. My mouth finds that spot between her breasts again, trailing over the curve of her breast, toward her nipple. Her head tilts back into the light wind, with no regard for her weight on the wall any longer. Holding her between the shoulders with one hand, the other anchoring her hip, I lower my head to lick one nipple, and then the next, sucking in the same order.

“Shane,” she pleads again, and damn if I don’t like how my name sounds on this woman’s lips. What I want now is her quaking uncontrollably.

Caressing down her hips, my hands glides over her belly, to the V of her body, my index finger flicking her clit. More of those sexy sounds slip from her throat and I move lower, exploring the slick, wet seam of her body until she is squirming. Then, and only then do I slip two fingers inside her and maneuver the chair and our bodies to bring my mouth to her belly, and lick a path toward my fingers.

My mouth lingers where she and I both want it to be, one second, two—

“Shane, damn it,” Emily breathes out.

My lips curve and I lick her clit and then suck deeply, losing myself in the sweet, salty taste of her, licking here and there, and everywhere, my fingers pumping against the rocking of her hips. Too soon, she stiffens, her body tightening around my fingers, her entire body trembling a moment later. I ease the licks into soft caresses, my fingers to gentle strokes, until she collapses, the tension in her body turning to soft, limp satisfaction.

That is until reality has her eyes going wide. “The glass. I’ll fall.”

I answer by flattening my hand at her back and lifting her from the wall to sit fully on top of me, my palm moving the back of her head to drag her mouth to mine. “Now I taste like you,” I proclaim, my lips slanting over hers, my tongue stroking deep, letting her taste my hunger mixed with that sweet, salty mix of her arousal.

Her hands come down on my shoulders, and I know the moment she realizes she can touch me now, her fingers flexing, her tongue stroking more fully against mine. She leans forward, and one of her hands finds my hair, gripping it, not teasing it. “You have to get undressed,” she announces, and suddenly she leans back, grabs the top of my shirt above my buttons and yanks, to zero result.

She pales, and looks appalled, blood rushing to her otherwise pale cheeks. “In my mind that went much differently.”

I stare at this woman who truly defies everything I expect from a woman, a smile playing on my lips. “Not as you planned?”

“My secret’s out. I’m not exactly what anyone would call a seductress.”

“I like you just the way you are,” I say, the rage of my body, wiping away my smile. She turns somber.

“You don’t even know me.”

“But I’m about to,” I assure her, dragging her hands to my neck. “Hold on.” I stand, cupping her backside, and start for the door, ready to be inside this woman. Her legs wrap my waist, exactly where I want them and plan to keep them, and as much as I want her in my bed, I just want her, and settle for the living room. Once there, I bypass the cold leather couch, and set her gorgeous bare backside on top of an oversized ottoman with soft faux fur on top. She grabs the edges and kicks off her shoes.

“I’ll do it this time,” I say, reaching for the buttons on my shirt, and working them free. She reaches forward to help me and I take one look at her mouth, and cup her head and kiss her. A deep, drugging kiss that I end far too quickly, and in a rare moment where impatience wins, I tug my shirt over my head and toss it on the coffee table. And her hands are already on me, one flat on my chest, the other on my arm.

It’s then that I realize she’s tracing the tattoo on my right arm, and I have no idea why I don’t just kiss her again and get on with f*cking her. Instead, I kneel there, and I let her trace the lion with an eagle perched on its head, the bird’s wings spread, and pieces of a day I don’t want to remember coming back to me.

She glances up at me, her hand closing over my arm, her attention on me, not it now. “What does it mean?”

My mood darkens instantly, and I don’t even consider dismissing the question. “The eagle is knowledge, strength, and leadership. The lion is cunning and vicious. He’ll rip your throat out if you give him the chance.” Her lips part in shock, exactly my intention, and I twine my fingers in her hair, dragging her mouth to mine. “That’s why you never turn your back on the lion.”

“And your father’s the lion.”

My fingers tighten in her hair at the assertion that stuns me, and seems to infer she knows more about me than she should. She is the one who sees too much and she has unleashed my raging emotions. I turn her away from me to face the couch, my body framing hers, my hands cupping her breasts. “I’m the man who’s wanted to f*ck you for hours and it’s time for me to be inside you.” I wonder what the hell has taken me so long in the first place. “Don’t move.”

She covers my hand over her breast. “Shane—”

“Talk later. Fuck now.” I lift off her, my hands on her waist, and as on edge as I am now, I do not want to scare her, or stir her demons because mine have decided to come out and play. I lean into her again, softly saying, “Right now—”