Hottest Mess (S.I.N. #2)(11)

When he finally breaks the kiss, his expression is as raw as his voice. “You’re at my mercy, baby.”

“Yes.” I can barely force the word out. “God, yes.”

“Come for me, Jane. I want you to explode for me, now.”

It is as if the primal command in his voice is the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been assembling, and I do as he commands, screaming his name as my body rips apart in one wild, sensational orgasm. I tremble all over with such violent rapture that I don’t notice at first that his finger is no longer inside me. Now he’s using that hand to stroke his cock, and the moment his eyes meet mine, we are locked together.

His breath is ragged, and I realize that mine is, too. We are perfectly attuned, and waves of pleasure crash through me as he explodes. He comes over my legs and belly, marking me. Claiming me. And I absolutely love it.

I keep my eyes on his, then slide my finger over my legs and stomach before lifting my hand to my mouth. I suck, relishing the salty taste of him almost as much as the look on his face. Lust. Desire. Appreciation. And, yes, love.

For a moment, we just look at each other, both our chests rising and falling as we breathe. Then he hooks one arm around my waist and another under one of my legs. He shifts me so that I am sideways in his lap, and I can cradle my head against his shoulder.

“You do know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Sykes,” I say.

I feel his chuckle rumble through my chest. “I try.”

I smile, but the laughter never quite reaches my lips. I’m too overwhelmed by the moment. By what I feel. By the presence of this man I love. With a sigh, I tuck my head under his chin, snuggling close. “This whole thing is a hot mess, you know. How are we ever going to make this work?”

The silence between us is long, but then finally he answers. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But we will. Don’t ever doubt it. Don’t ever doubt us.”

The passion in his voice calms me, and I close my eyes as he holds me tight. I cling to him, relishing his certainty. His strength.

And desperately wishing that he was strong enough to truly crush all of my fears and worries.





Sins of the Father

What the f*ck was he doing?

He leaned forward, his hands clutching the marble countertop. He was in his bathroom, naked from the waist down. He’d tossed his jeans—stained from her juices and his come—on the floor behind him. He should have tossed them in the laundry, but damned if he didn’t want to wear them tomorrow. He’d be wearing them still if he didn’t need to go back out to the party and find Henry Darcy.

He knew he should shower, but he wanted to hold on to the scent of her for as long as possible. The feel of her. The memory of how wild she’d been in his arms. How hard she’d rubbed herself against his jeans, then worked her slick, swollen * against his bare cock.

He groaned softly, closing his eyes as he let his mind drift back to the way she’d looked, her back arched as she ground herself against him like a wild thing, each gyration forcing his finger deeper into her ass even as the friction against her sensitive clit brought her that much closer to screaming his name.

He’d always wanted her—hell? some of his earliest memories were of wanting her. But now that they were together, that desire had changed. It was hard and raw. It was possessive and wild and desperate. He wanted to take her to dark places with him. He wanted her to understand what he needed now—and what he hated himself for needing.

He’d changed in captivity. She’d changed him. The Woman. One of their two kidnappers. The bitch who’d tortured him. Teased him. Tormented him in ways he hadn’t understood at fifteen, but that had become a part of his sexual appetites. And Jane—oh, god, Jane—she’d sworn she wanted to go there with him.

Some part of him hadn’t really believed her, and he’d intended to start slow. Asking. Explaining. But he’d lost his f*cking mind tonight. He’d wanted—and he’d taken.

And f*ck if she hadn’t matched him. In power. In desire. In need.

Granted, tonight was a relatively tame appetizer—a first step on a wild and wicked journey—but she had been right there with him. More than that, she had loved it. He’d never seen her wetter. Wilder. He’d taken her to a desperate, primal place, and she’d been completely at his mercy.

And oh, the way she’d trusted him …

He’d bound her wrists. He’d gripped her throat. He’d given her reason to hesitate, to fear. And yet when he looked into her eyes, the trust and love he’d seen there had both melted him and left no doubt that she was his.

Trust.

He winced, looking down so that he didn’t have to meet his own eyes in the mirror. She trusted him. And not just in bed, but in everything.

Most of all, she trusted him to keep his promise.

“No more secrets,” she’d begged four days ago, when they had finally stopped dancing around their desire and committed to being together for real. “Not between us. Not again. Not ever.”

“No more secrets,” he’d promised, and at the time, he’d meant it.

Then Liam had called, and Dallas had found himself holding on to the biggest secret of all. Colin. Jane’s birth father. A man that Dallas considered a friend and had once thought of as an uncle.

A man who right now was topping Deliverance’s list of suspects as the brains behind Dallas and Jane’s kidnapping.