Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(68)

Callie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Are you allowed to do that?”

An astonishing hint of color lined his narrow cheekbones. Was he embarrassed? “I’d rather you didn’t mention this to Molinari.”

She hid her burst of amusement. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Well, maybe not a kid, she conceded as a white-hot lick of excitement curled through the pit of her stomach.

More like a sexy beast who wasn’t entirely tamed.

Clicking the lock to release her seat belt, Callie closed the small distance between them and pressed a kiss to the hollow just below his ear.

She’d already learned it was a particularly sensitive spot. “My lips are sealed,” she promised softly.

“Shit,” he groaned, fumbling with his own seat belt. “You’re killing me.”

Lingering just long enough to suck in the intoxicating scent of his warm, male skin, Callie scooted back across the seat and out the door.

She had time to glance at the faded brick structure that matched the connecting buildings to form a bland wall of depressing architecture before Duncan was scooping her off her feet and they were entering the nearest doorway.

He was forced to set her down so he could unlock his apartment, but he kept one arm wrapped around her, as if he thought she might bolt.

Poor sap. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was getting rid of her.

Hustling her inside, he closed and locked the door. Then, still keeping a tight grip on her, he led her into the kitchen-slash-dining room, pausing to toss his keys on the square Formica table.

“Do you want me to call for lunch now or—”

“Later,” she interrupted.

“Later is great,” he admitted with a groan of relief, leaning down to kiss her with a frustrated hunger that had nothing to do with BBQ. “Much later would be fantastic.”

He glanced toward the table, obviously debating the pleasure of immediate satisfaction against the comfort of a bed and a soft mattress.

She didn’t know what tilted the balance, but one minute she was glancing at the pictures set on the china cabinet of various men and women who looked enough like Duncan to be family, and the next she was abruptly being tugged through a tidy living room with furniture that was worn but surprisingly homey, with more pictures on the wall.

A few steps later and she found herself in a bedroom that was decorated in shades of tan and chocolate. Her brows lifted as she studied the comforter that was neatly spread across the double bed and the lack of clothes on the carpet.

“I’m surprised,” she murmured.

He carefully removed his holstered gun as he nuzzled a trail of kisses down her neck, the feel of his whiskers against her sensitive skin making her shiver with pleasure.

“I warned you it’s a shithole,” he husked.

“No, I meant . . .” She lost her train of thought as his hands skimmed beneath her top, his fingers moving like the brush of a butterfly wing over her ribs to rest just below the swell of her br**sts.

“You meant?” he prompted with a hint of amusement.

Not about to let him have complete control, she grabbed the hem of his tee and yanked it over his head, exposing a delectable expanse of bronzed skin stretched taut over chiseled muscles.

Oh . . . yum.

It was like a feast for her senses.

“It’s cleaner than I expected,” she explained, her hands lifting to explore the triangle of golden hair on his upper chest.

He gave a low growl, his hands cupping her br**sts as his hot breath seared over her ear.

“My sisters love to do drop-by inspections,” he said in a husky voice. “If the place isn’t up to their code then I’m stuck with them until they get it cleaned to their satisfaction.”

His words sliced through her sensual haze. She was already terrified at the thought of meeting Duncan’s family— the last thing she needed was to worry that the meeting might take place while she was naked in his bed.

“They won’t be stopping by today, will they?”

His thumbs found the tight peaks of her br**sts, sending darts of scorching excitement through her body.

“Not unless they want to get shot,” he muttered.

She pulled back to stab him with a worried frown. “Duncan.”

“They know if I’m home during the day I pulled an all-nighter and I’m in bed.” He leaned forward to kiss her with a slow, lingering thoroughness. “We won’t be disturbed.”

Melting beneath the heat of his kiss, Callie forgot his sisters and the missing necromancer and all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

Stolen moments might very well be all she had with this man.

She intended to savor each and every one of them.

Perhaps sensing her urgency, Duncan pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her bra followed.

She kicked off her shoes, enjoying the sheer male possession in his touch as he unsnapped her jeans and tugged them downward.

“You’re very good at this,” she breathed.

He dropped to his knees; his lips nuzzled across the clenched muscles of her stomach.

“This chemistry has nothing to do with skill.” His fingers trailed up the back of her thighs, sending a rash of goose bumps over her skin. “And everything to do with fate.”

Her pounding heart came to a perfect halt.