Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(40)

He loved women, but they no longer had the ability to lay him low.

Unless the woman was Keelie.

With that smart mouth and her distrustful eyes . . . and now he had her half-naked in front of him and his hands were shaking.

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to the gentle swells of her breasts, where a knife pierced a rose. He traced the line of a petal with his tongue as her breath stuttered out of her. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips as he trailed them along the edge of the bra and then higher, along the vivid, beautiful colors of the tattoos running along her collarbone and down her arms.

He’d thought about learning every single line of those tattoos. With his fingertips. With his eyes. With his mouth. Now he had every intention of making that a reality.

A harsh, high sound escaped her as he leaned in, rocked against her. That sound made his blood burn hotter, higher. Her knees came up and gripped his hips. One hand braced on the island next to her, he stared at her, watching as her eyes went glassy, color spilling into her cheeks.

So beautiful.

And so hot . . . She moved against him and he shuddered, biting back a groan. Catching her knees, he guided them back down. He still had to keep some level of control here.

Some.

Although even the thought was becoming laughable.

Letting his gaze roam over her, he studied that rose blooming along the side of her neck, the color a rich shade caught between red and purple. The bud hovered in that space just before it burst into bloom, like it was just waiting for the right moment. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to it, curving his hand along her hip to hold her still as she gasped.

Then he moved down along the rose’s vine.

There were butterflies worked into the design, but each of them seemed to hover, almost like they were afraid to take flight. He found each one, kissed each one. Eight in all. The vine led to another rose, this one just below her collarbone. There was an identical one on the opposite side and in the middle of the two roses, there was a heart . . . locked.

He pressed his mouth to the heart and sucked lightly on her skin.

A ragged cry escaped her and he lifted his head.

Her pale skin was flushed and her eyes glittered.

Control fraying, he caught her face in his hands and hauled her closer, slanting his mouth over hers.

She opened for him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he drank from her.

Dying of thirst, for her. Desperate for her.

Keelie.

She wrapped her legs around him again and this time, he banded his arm around her, until there was no room between them, no room, no air. All he could feel was the heat of her. She was already wet, he could feel it through their clothes, and the few threads of control he had left started to snap.

“Zane . . .” Her voice broke.

Snarling, he tangled his hand in her hair and arched her head back, baring her throat. She cried out as he raked his teeth down the soft, sensitive column.

She clung to him, wrapped around him and arched—

A warning chill race downed his spine.

His balls went tight.

Fuck. “Keelie,” he muttered, lifting his head.

Her eyes were locked on his, half-mindless, and she squirmed and wiggled, the tension in her body ramping up. A flush swept up her neck and he felt that tension spread out through him even as his cock jerked, throbbed—

He was going to lose it. In his f*cking pants, like a kid—

“Please . . .” The whisper ripped out of her, broken and full of need.

Well, hell.

Drawing her back against him, he changed the angle of his hips and moved again, just once—

Her eyes flew wide and she cried out his name, her nails digging into the knotted muscles of his biceps as she came.

Sensation reverberated down his spine as she shuddered and moved against him, still riding the edge of her climax. Zane groaned and buried his face in her neck.

Yeah, the idea of maintaining some level of control had just flown right out the damn window.


*

Panting for breath, her head resting on his shoulder, Keelie tried to process just what had happened.

Her mouth was dry.

Her heart was racing.

One of his hands smoothed up her back and she shivered. He had rough hands, and the feel of those calluses along her hypersensitive skin was just one more torment.

Just what the hell . . .

“I don’t know about you, but I probably need to go take a shower.”

She blinked.

As he lifted his head, she went to cross her arms over her chest except that seemed kind of stupid just then.

So she kept her hands limp at her sides as she looked at him.

“A shower?” she asked dumbly.

A wry grin twisted his lips, his eyes more than a little unfocused as he glanced down at himself. “Yeah. A shower.”

Automatically, she glanced down and then jerked her gaze back up at the sight of the wet stain along the front of his pants.

“What . . . you . . . oh.”

He laughed, and when she would have looked away, he hooked his arms over her shoulders. “You went and turned me into a sixteen-year-old boy, Keelie. I’m the one who should be all embarrassed and blushing.”

“Ah . . .”

He nuzzled her neck and then murmured, “I kind of need a favor.”

He sounded . . . softer.

Zane was always so controlled and calm, polite with it, but almost . . . rigid. Now he sounded sleepy and warm and she just wanted to cuddle up against him and sleep.