Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(47)

The breath sawed from her lungs when the tip of the ultra-sharp blade slipped beneath the bottom edge of the Ace bandage. He was still watching her, keeping her a prisoner of his gaze. And, in response, her heart beat hungrily, pounding out a rhythm that echoed down the entire length of her body.

“Hold still,” he told her, eyes locked with hers and sparkling with dark secrets. They were the secrets of a man who’d made it his business to know what a woman wanted…

She ground her teeth together, not daring to breathe, barely daring to move, as that blade slowly, ever so maddeningly slowly slipped up the wrappings, slicing through them like they were nothing. And only after the last binding slipped free and fell to the side did he drop his gaze in order to look down at what he’d uncovered.

She thought she saw his pupils dilate. Thought she saw him rake in a ragged breath. Then, “Tu es tellement beau,” he whispered, his voice no more than a low rumble in his wide chest.

You are so beautiful. That’s what he said. And when she saw the heat in his eyes, caught the rapid tick of the heavy muscle in his square jaw, she felt beautiful. Even sweaty and bedraggled, hair all messy and without a stitch of makeup, when she looked at Rock looking at her with a sort of reverent awe, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world…

“Touch me,” she pleaded, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back on her neck…

***

“Parfait,” Rock whispered, telling Vanessa she was perfect in his first language as he reached forward with one finger to touch the tip of an exquisitely formed breast. He swallowed, the brainless wonder jumping in the V of his undone pants when her nipple hardened to a little nub on contact.

As Ozzie would say, she was five feet, five inches of boom and pow. She had it all, a fine ass, flawless breasts that were neither too big nor too small, and a tiny little waist that was the perfect fit for a man’s hands.

Oui, she had it all. And it was all explosive. To a man’s senses, that is.

And that was before he got to her nipples…

Whowee, he reckoned she had the most delicious nipples on the planet. Round and brown and a little bit puffy, just like he liked, standing out slightly from the rest of her breast. And he would bet his daddy’s old ’coon-skinning knife that she tasted as good as she looked.

Leaning forward, cupping her breast in his palm, lifting it like an offering even as he ran the rough pad of his thumb over her nipple just to see it tighten more, he sucked it into his mouth. She was salty and sweet. He could taste the sweat on her skin, but beneath that was the minty lotion she used.

Yep, just as he’d thought. Delicious.

Vanessa moaned as she worked one hand free from his grip in order to palm the back of his head and press him more tightly against her. Her heels dug in just above his butt as she pulled him close, the material of her cargo pants hot and damp and—

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Damp!

The woman was wet clean through her pants. And that was it. The momentary control he’d managed to wrangle suddenly snapped, and all the gentleness he’d forced on himself was gone in an instant. He sucked at her breast, flicking his tongue fast and hard, feeling her breath hitch even as a slow keening whine sounded in the back of her throat.

It was a plea. A sweet, feminine entreaty for more.

And, oui, you better believe he was going to give it to her.

Snaking a hand between their bodies, he managed to unsnap her fly and slide her zipper down. Then he delved inside and realized why she was damp clean through her pants.

The woman wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He pulled back, grumbling with delight when her nipple popped free of his mouth, all wet and shiny and begging for more kisses.

I’ll come back to you, he promised before looking up to find Vanessa watching him with that particular look a woman gets when she knows she’s got a man eating of her hands, when she knows she has him just where she wants him because he’s stopped thinking with that round thing on his shoulders and has started thinking with that hard thing between his legs.

“You’re not wearin’ any panties,” he murmured, his fingers finding nothing but smooth, wet flesh.

Apparently, Vanessa shaved. Everything.

Mon dieu. How the hell was he supposed to keep his head about him, make this all for her, when she was both pantyless and hairless? Had she intentionally come to the jungle to drive him crazy? Or…get him killed? Because he’d certainly lost track of time—it could’ve been minutes or hours since they’d started this—and that was oh-so dangerous.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to make himself care. All he knew was that there was no stopping now.

“They chafe in this humidity,” she breathed, even as she worked her second hand free from his grasp in order to reach down and grab him. She wasn’t shy about it either. She clamped on and started stroking him in a firm, fast rhythm that had his eyes threatening to roll back in his head.

Since he figured turnabout was fair play, and since it was either get going on her or he was going to make a big ol’ fool of himself by popping off like a pubescent boy, he slammed his lips over the top of hers and sucked her tongue into his mouth at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

Damn, she was tight. Smooth as satin, hot as sin, and oh-oh-oh so wet.

“More,” she demanded against his lips.

He aimed to please, so he worked a second finger inside of her and was rewarded when she tightened around him, squeezing gently, giving him an idea of what kind of heaven he’d find if he used his knife to slice off her pants, if he took a step forward and spread her wide, if he pushed himself…