Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(19)

Eyes trained on her face, Henrik hardened his tongue and stabbed it into Ailish’s belly button, savoring the surprised whimper she let fly.

“Oh, we can do better than that.” He slipped a hand up her rib cage to knead her breast. “Who has you on your back?”

“You. H-Henrik.”

“That’s right.” He pushed his chin into her pelvis and moved it side to side, holding her down when she tried to fly off the bed again. When she calmed a little, he scraped his stubble against her right hip. “We’re going to make sure everyone in the park knows it, too. Hold on to the sheets while you get a full body f*cking from my mouth.”





Chapter Six


Flames were engulfing Ailish’s body. Impossible, right? It seemed impossible when he’d only put his tongue in her belly button. But God…God. There was an electric current underneath that tiny hollow corresponding to the female flesh between her legs. The first drive of his tongue had elicited arousal that usually took Ailish ten minutes to achieve. It felt like the beginnings of an orgasm. Her stomach tightened like a fist; the insides of her thighs quivered. More, she wanted more.

But this was her opportunity to get away. She’d more or less orchestrated this moment. Or at least, she’d planned to get Henrik distracted so she could make her move. Now, though? Now—

Henrik pushed his tongue into her belly button again, a slow slide of wet pressure that sent liquid to the juncture of her thighs. In preparation for a man. The harder he pushed, the more gravity built at her center. Ailish’s fingers dug into the bedspread, twisting the rough material. “Oh my God. What are you d-doing?”

He shushed against the soft skin above her panty line before scooping two hands beneath Ailish’s body to cradle her bottom, massaging both sides in tandem. “The only thing that matters,” he grated, running his tongue around her navel, “is it’s getting your * wet as f*ck. I can feel the wet against my chest. Making me want to yank down these panties and give you my dick. What matters, baby, is you want more.”

It hadn’t been a question, but she answered anyway, her brain scrambling to remember the plan. The plan, Ailish. “Yes, I want more.”

She did, too. Maybe more than getting away. And that realization is what jolted Ailish. Henrik looked so massive, so sexy, covering the bottom half of her body. A formidable male packed with shifting muscles. His hands were spread on her skin, the tips digging into her flesh and creating indentations. Their desperation felt equal. Heavy and immediate. They were in this together.

No. No…she needed to separate herself.

Henrik flexed one of his pectoral muscles and it ground against her core, hardness against soft. Hearing her own scream, Ailish slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh Lord, she’d never experienced a buildup like this on her way to an orgasm. What would it feel like? If it felt anything like the lead-up, she would implode. Henrik moved his chest muscles in tight up-and-down movements between her legs, his tongue making repeated advances into her belly button. Each stab into that shallow valley made her vision grow bleary, turned up the intensity of her stomach’s quickening.

“Oh. Oh. You have to stop. It…I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

His only response was a tighter grip on her bottom, his thumbs digging into the underside in what resulted in—shocker—another newly discovered erogenous zone. Arousal rushed in from all sides, like a car sinking into a river with all four windows open. It scared her. Shame followed that mental confession. After being such a tease, she couldn’t even handle the tables being flipped.

Henrik’s teeth sank into her hip. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.” His lips skimmed their way back to the center of her belly, starting those torturous drives into the hollow once more. “You’re going to get off while I f*ck the bed, pretending I’m giving it to you doggy-style. And between now and the next time we touch, baby? You’re going to wonder what I can do when I actually let myself attack that *. That’s what’s going to happen.”

His blunt speech made her nipples tighten, sent her heels burrowing into the bed. So close. So close. But worry held her body back. Henrik would own her afterward. Ailish could sense it. She couldn’t allow him to overwhelm her like this—to know he could do it whenever a situation arose where she needed placating. He’d lied to her. His intentions weren’t clear. If she dropped her guard too much, she could end up imprisoned again, whether it be with her father or the police.

Dammit, this is going to hurt.

Ailish kept her attention trained on Henrik as she slipped a hand across the bed to feel around beneath her pillow. Cool metal greeted her knuckles, and she turned her hand over to grip the gun. Her resolve wavered when Henrik laid a kiss on the white material of her panties, pulling at the waistband with his teeth. If she just lay back, she would hit her climax in seconds. A climax she craved. But the fear of returning to Chicago, the possibility of a future planned by others, propelled her into action.

In one fluid motion, Ailish pulled the gun from beneath her pillow and pointed it at Henrik. With the opposite elbow, she scooted back on the bed to get outside of reaching distance. An ex-cop—especially one as large as Henrik—would be well capable of disarming her, and then the real trouble would begin. “Don’t move,” she said, sounding embarrassingly out of breath.