Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(21)

The only time she’d ever felt like this had been the night of Zach’s wedding, when Zane had kissed her.

Before that, the only other time she’d come close had been when she had a really good vibrator, and she’d finished reading a really dirty book. Then she could almost get this hot. Almost.

She eased in closer, nipped his lower lip.

Zane groaned against her mouth, the sound ragged and low.

Startled, she pulled her head back, but before she’d even moved an inch, he cupped her head and pulled her toward him. “Open your mouth,” he muttered, and then he sweetened that request, nibbling along her lower lip and flicking at the entrance of her mouth with his tongue. “Open for me, Keelie . . .”

She opened on a shuddering sigh and then gasped as the room spun around her. The unfinished brick wall was rough against her back, but that just added another level of sensation. Zane had his mouth on hers and then he angled her head back and she opened for him, and when he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, she thought she just might die.

Except the pleasure didn’t stop there.

He rested one hand on her hip and dragged her lower body in closer to his.

Against her belly, she felt the hard, firm pressure of his cock and against her thighs, she felt the solid length of muscle and it wasn’t enough.

Nowhere near.

She was burning for him, dying for him.


*

Cool, strong hands, just a little callused and just a little hesitant, slid under his shirt, and as Keelie stroked her palms up his back, Zane was almost positive he had died. At some point during the night, he’d just died and now he was experiencing the closest thing to heaven he’d ever know.

Or maybe it was just a dream.

Her teeth raked over his lip and he shuddered, tearing away from her to press his face against her neck.

“Zane . . .”

He squeezed his eyes closed.

Slow.

He needed to slow the hell down.

His cock gave an insistent jerk. Slow down? No. I don’t think so.

But Zane wasn’t going to be led around by his dick. The last time he’d let his dick—and his emotions—totally control the situation, Keelie had used that as an excuse to widen the distance between them, and he’d be damned if he gave her that chance now. That chasm would turn into the Grand Canyon and he was struggling to close the distance as it was.

Keelie’s fingers slid higher along his spine, her touch cool on his skin, the slightly rough calluses a sensation more erotic than anything he could have described.

“Zane?”

He lifted his head, saw the expression in her eyes. Doubt, need. The doubt . . . f*ck, he’d have to figure out how to handle that. The need . . . that would lay him low.

Lowering his mouth to Keelie’s, he caught her lower lip between his teeth. Tugged. “Open,” he said against her lips.

Slow, he told himself again, practically screaming it. Bracing one fisted hand against the wall, he covered her mouth with his own, shuddered as she arched against him. Sensation raced through him from head to toe as she sucked lightly at his tongue.

He nudged her thighs wide, settled more firmly against her.

A tremor rippled through her body, the long slim body he held against his own. Zane fought the urge to pull away and tear every last shred of her clothes away from her.

Instead, he slid one hand under the hem of the skimpy red thing she probably called a sweater and felt the smooth silk of her skin against his palm. She shivered a little as he stroked higher and when he pulled back, she made a disappointed sound against his lips.

Lifting his head, he looked down at her, absently reaching up to nudge his glasses into place. Then he cupped her cheek in his hand. Her lashes drooped low, shielding her gaze.

“What are we doing?” he asked, his voice gruff.

Does it matter? Get back to doing it.

The problem was, it mattered way too much.

That slow flush crept up her neck and, now, standing this close to her, he could see that it started down low—if he had to make a bet, he’d imagine it started on the delicate slopes of her breasts and crept its way up. He wanted to have her naked in front of him so he could see that blush pink her breasts, her neck, right before he kissed her again.

For a moment, he didn’t think she’d answer and then she angled her chin up, met his eyes dead-on with that cocky attitude she so often showed everybody.

“Isn’t it kind of obvious?”

He pressed his thumb to the wide, soft curve of her lower lip.

Eyes on that curve, he said, “So . . . what? You here looking for a quick f*ck, Keelie?”

She jerked, tried to pull away.

He didn’t let her, leaning his weight more heavily against her although he knew full well he might be tasting his balls, bloody and broken, in his throat in a moment.

“Back off,” she bit off.

“No.” He dipped his head, rubbed his lips against hers, and when she averted her head, he skimmed them along her neck. “I’m just trying to see the picture that’s so obvious for you. I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for . . . hell, three years now, if I remember right.”

Three years. Eight months. Two weeks? Not that he was counting, really.

When she did nothing, said nothing, just watched him with those inscrutable eyes of blue and brown, he leaned in and buried his face against her hair. Black and white again, the chunks of black framing her face.