Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(57)
He took a couple of long strides across the room, then released me rather abruptly, dropping me onto a ridiculously soft bed before standing over me.
“Do you really want to leave, Riley?” he asked in a more serious tone of voice. His eyes were dark, guarded, and his expression unreadable. “You can walk out of my house right now and we can pretend this never happened. Just go back to how things were. Is that what you want?”
Fuck no! My conscience was screaming, howling denials, but I just bit my lip.
Was that really what I wanted? To pretend this never happened and potentially miss my opportunity at ever exploring this fucked up chemistry between Beck and me?
“No.” The word fell from my lips like a fucking prayer, reverent and loaded with conviction.
It was all he needed. His weight dropped down on me, his lips on mine and his hands on my body. My mind was made up, I was all in. Fuck it, even if things did go back to normal tomorrow, at least I wouldn’t be wondering anymore.
Beck’s hands shoved my robe off my arms, then stripped my t-shirt over my head in one quick move—barely even breaking our kiss for a moment. Damn he was good. Must have been all the practice...
Ugh, stop it. So he’s a man-whore. Who gives a shit? It’s not like you want to date him!
The thought of anyone—let alone me—actually dating Beck, being in a monogamous relationship with him ... it was hilarious, and I couldn’t prevent the small laugh bubbling out of my throat.
“What?” he asked, pausing with his hand over my breast. My legs had somehow parted and he rested between them.
“Hmm?” I replied, blinking up through a haze of desire. My own hands had made it up under his black t-shirt, and I could see the edges of some ink designs. The possibility of exploring them further had me practically salivating.
He pulled back a bit further. “You just laughed. Why did you laugh?”
I frowned, then a slow smile spread over my face. I hadn’t even been fully aware that I’d laughed aloud, and I surely couldn’t explain my thoughts ... ah fuck it.
“I was just laughing at the idea of you with a girlfriend,” I explained, then froze. “Not that I want to be her,” I back peddled. “Oh my god, that sounded so creepy clinger. I was just laughing at the idea of you staying faithful to any girl.” I shook my head, regretting ever opening my mouth. “Forget it, it was funnier in my head. Are we doing this or what?”
Not really waiting for him to change his mind, I tugged his shirt up and over his head to expose ... a body I definitely wasn’t ready for. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Was it even legal to be that ripped and sexy and have such perfectly placed ink?
“I think I just came,” I muttered, sweeping my eyes—and my hands—all over his body.
A sly grin crept over Beck’s lips, and I knew my foot in mouth comments were forgotten ... for now. “Not yet, but you will,” he promised, dipping his head back to my neck and kissing his way down to my chest. Deft fingers stripped me of the crop top I’d been sleeping in—big boob problems—tossing it aside and palming my breasts. Beck groaned, his breath warm against my exposed nipple. “You really do have great tits, Butterfly.”
His compliment reminded me of his little calling card, after I’d vomited in his Bugatti then passed out, but this time I grinned at the memory instead of being mad.
“Thanks,” I replied, hooking my legs around his waist and rolling us over—giving myself the dominant position. It wasn’t even subtle, this was a clear battle for supremacy even if it was a fun one. “You’re no slouch yourself. These tattoos are...” I trailed off with a noise of appreciation. My fingers traced the black ink designs before I gave over to my more primal instincts and ran my tongue across the geometric wolf on his chest. He indulged me for about half a minute, his hands busy with my naked breasts, before he turned the tables and flipped us again.
“I’m going to need you more naked than this,” he muttered, dragging his fingers into the waistband of my soft pj bottoms. He took his time peeling them down my legs, torturing me with anticipation before tossing them across the room. A curse slipped from his sexy mouth as he ran his rough hands back up my body. “You have no idea how often the sight of you like this has crossed my mind since Friday night,” he admitted, his voice gruff and needy. “You’ve been torturing me and you never even knew it.”
His fingertips brushed a little too hard across the purple-black splotches on my ribs, and I hissed. My whole body tensed, but he just stroked the injured patch before doing the same to the hand prints around my throat.
“Beck,” I breathed out on a frustrated sigh. “Are we fucking or what?”
His gentle hands stilled. He peered up at me, his eyes dark and glittering like the gateway to Hell or something. Instantly, I suspected that was the worst thing I could have said. Or was it the best? It was all a matter of perspective.
Either way, my question tore through his soft, gentle side like claws through tissue paper. His tongue ran across his lower lip, then without any warning his thumbs looped in the sides of my lace underwear and tore it clean off my body.
A shocked squeak escaped me as I gaped at him in equal parts fear and admiration. I’d read books where that happened but they were always some form of paranormal romance where the hero had extra powers. I had no clue it was possible in real life.