Mr. Wrong Number(61)

“Oh, come on, Marshall,” he said, his mouth lowering so it was just above mine. “We do, too.”

“Dammit,” I whispered just before his lips landed on mine and made me forget my common sense. His mouth was as hot as I remembered, as perfectly perfect, and it absolutely devoured mine.

Oh, Gawwwd.

Colin kissed me like he was the hero in an action movie and our world was about to end. He kissed me like I was his greatest obsession and he couldn’t believe he finally had me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and did my best to return his favor, throwing my all into the kiss. His growl made me smile against his lips, which quickly turned into a whimper as he nipped at my bottom lip and picked me up.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I said into his mouth as I wrapped my legs around him.

“Sure it doesn’t,” he said, just before he lowered his mouth and scraped his teeth over my neck. He took me inside and up the stairs to the loft, his grip tightening as the kissing kicked up to an even hotter level.

I swear to everything holy that Colin Beck’s intense kissing could bring a woman to orgasm.

When we got up to the loft, he set me down next to the bed. I could barely open my eyes—too, too heavy—but I saw his red-hot gaze and my pulse picked up.

“Lose the shirt, Beck,” I said, and his T-shirt was gone in a second. He pulled it over his head—all half naked and beautiful—and looked down at me, and I set both my hands on his warm chest.

Oh, holy Greek gods. It wasn’t just that he was chiseled and tan and had that delicious tattoo that started on his shoulder and wound down his ropy arm. Those things made him ridiculously hot, but it was the faint appendectomy scar and the dusting of hair leading from his navel down south that made him deathly sexy, because it was intimate.

Up close and personal in my bedroom.

Mine.

“Any way you can remove that dress but leave on the boots, honey?” He looked at me with heavy-lidded hot eyes, like I was the sexiest being he’d ever seen, which made me feel like the sexiest being on the planet. His deep voice rumbled out, “I love those boots.”

“Can you unzip me?” I turned and lifted my hair, giving him my back, happy that (a) I was wearing a dress with a perfect escape zipper, and (b) I was wearing one of my nicer undies and thigh-high tights.

Side note: I always wore thigh highs because I hated the sagging crotches that inevitably occurred with tights, but on the rare occasions I’d undressed in front of a male while wearing them, they made me feel like a damned seductress.

When I felt his breath on the back of my neck and his fingers started dragging down the zipper, I was shaking in anticipation. He barely touched the dress and it fell from my shoulders and pooled around my feet.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and turned around, but I shouldn’t have wasted that second on nerves. The intensity in his face as his eyes burned all over my body relieved any concern I had that I didn’t measure up.

“Damn, Marshall,” he whispered, saying it in a way that made me shiver. “You’re a fucking fantasy.”

I set my hands back on his chest, needing him closer, but as he started kissing me long and deep and sliding his hands all over my body, an uneasy feeling skittered down my spine.

Because he’d ignored what I’d said.

So had I. We were both so lusty for each other that we were “following” this thing whether we wanted to or not.

And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to.

It was that I couldn’t.

I could not do this.





Colin


I was losing her.

She was still kissing me back, but for some reason I could just tell when Olivia was freaking out. Her muscles were tighter, her hands were still, and she was just less present.

She was freaking out in that overactive brain of hers, slipping away from this.

From me.

I still didn’t know if it was because of that fuckwit Eli or someone else, but she was skittish. I hadn’t meant to be reverent and slow with her—I knew better—but I’d damn near collapsed when I saw her in stiletto boots, stockings, and black lace.

I’d felt like dropping to my knees and worshipping at the altar of Olivia’s gorgeousness, but for some reason that kind of slow attentiveness messed with Liv.

So I changed the kiss, going faster, rougher, and more urgent. Eating that luscious mouth like I was a starved beast.

And I was. I was a starved beast in that moment.

Instead of moving to the bed, where I wanted to spread her out and kiss every square inch of her, I fed her desperate kisses while divesting her of lace and leading her over to the loft’s half wall.

And thank you, God, she was coming back to me with a vengeance. She bit down hard on my bottom lip and I grunted and wondered when I’d become so in tune with Olivia. And not just in tune, but obsessed with her responses.

I pulled my mouth away and turned her around, wrapping her fingers around the railing that ran across the half wall before putting my hands right beside hers.

“Better?” I murmured into her ear, biting the soft skin on the side of her pretty neck while inhaling her scent and moving my body closer to hers.

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning down a little and pushing back against me, shattering my mind into a million pieces.

After that we both forgot to think as we went fucking wild together.