Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(42)

I tilted my head to the side, my gaze trailing over his profile. “Are you thinking about work now?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

West turned his face back toward me, and although his eyes shone through the shadows playing across his features from the setting sun, I saw a hint of rawness glaring at me. It made my mouth go dry, and I forced myself to swallow past the tiny lump in my throat.

“No,” he answered quietly, holding my eyes captive with his. “I rarely do when I’m with you. Even when I’m supposed to.”

It was still hot out, but shivers trailed down my arms, leaving goose bumps pimpling across my skin.

“Then what are you thinking about?” I asked.

“I’m thinking that, if I don’t kiss you soon, I might go crazy.”

“So kiss me.”

He didn’t need a second invitation.

I dropped my knee down as he moved toward me, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me against him. I slid along the sofa with one easy tug from him so our bodies collided at the exact moment our lips did. I shuddered as he entwined my hair around his fingers and wrapped his arm around my back, locking me against him.

My own fingers found the collar of his shirt, and I held it for a moment before one hand fell down to his stomach and the other curved around the side of his neck, my thumb brushing against his stubbly jaw.

My body felt alive—completely and utterly alive. Desire trailed over my skin as we kissed. He licked and nipped at my lower lip until I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue against his. His groan vibrated through my body, and he eased me down until I was on my back and he was leaning over me, my legs wrapped around his waist.

His hard cock pushed against my clit, sending a bolt of desire shooting through my entire body until my blood hummed with need. I gasped when his mouth left mine and trailed up my jaw.

“What else are you thinking?” I breathed, tilting my head back against the sofa cushions.

He was breathing heavily as he nipped my earlobe. “Thinking you’re wearing too many clothes.” He kissed my neck. “Thinking I’m already f*cking crazy.” Another kiss, this time on my pulse point. “Thinking you should be naked so I can kiss every inch of you.” More kisses, now along my collarbone. “Thinking about licking your clit until you come in my mouth again.” Even more kisses, down to the curve of my breasts. “Thinking about pinning you down and f*cking you over and over again.”

I closed my eyes as he left hot, openmouthed kisses across my chest and reached his hand up to tug the low neck of my tank top down. He did, exposing my bra, and moved his dirty mouth down farther, his fingers moving too, until he pulled the cup of my bra down, popping out my breast, and took my nipple in his mouth.

I inhaled sharply and arched my back, pushing it farther into his mouth, a fact he took advantage of. He sucked so hard that it should have been painful, but all it did was turn me on to the point that my * was clenching again and again in desperation.

“Now,” I struggled to breathe out, running my fingers up the back of his head and into his thick, dark hair. “Now, what are you thinking?”

He released my nipple and leaned up, positioning his mouth over mine. “Thinking that’s exactly what you want me to do. Isn’t it, angel?”

I didn’t respond for a moment. Lust and common sense warred inside me, but inevitably, as I had known it would, my body’s insane desires for him won the battle, and to the beat of my pounding heart, I nodded.

“Say it.” He flexed his hips against me, grinding his cock against me.

The seam of my jeans rubbed against my clit, and I moaned. He chuckled, doing it again. And again, so I clutched his hair.

“What’s the matter, angel? Can’t talk?”

He was using his allure as a stripper on me, and I didn’t mind a bit, even if my answer was another moan as he gyrated his hips to a silent melody.

“Don’t want me to?” He stilled.

But I couldn’t talk, dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm.

He replaced my bra cup with a rough, “Gotcha.” Then he let me go, sitting up, and removed my leg from behind him.

He was—what?

No.

No way.

I sat up too, shrugged my kimono off, and threw it to the side. I caught him right before he could stand. I dragged him back by his shirt and sat on top of him before he could move again. I cupped his face and kissed him hard, flicked my tongue across the seam of his lips, and said, “I want you to f*ck me, West. Hard. Until I can’t breathe. Until I’m screaming your name.”

He cupped my ass and stood easily, his crazy strength making it easy to lift me as I crossed my legs at the bottom of his back. “Mia...” he murmured, carrying me into the house. “My dirty little angel. I’ll do more than f*ck you until you just scream my name. I’ll f*ck you so hard you’ll be screaming my name so loudly the whole damn neighborhood is gonna hear you come all over my cock.”

“Dare you,” I said against his mouth, grasping the back of his neck. I bit my cheek as the stairs made his cock rock against my clit, which sent more sparks of desire through me.

We reached the top, and he shoved a door halfway along the hall open. He carried me into the room so certainly, so strongly, that it wasn’t a surprise when he threw me on the bed so hard that I bounced a couple of times.