Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(21)

She tasted whiskey and him.

The taste went straight to her head and she wondered if maybe she was the drunk one. Her control was suddenly more than a little shaky. Lifting her free hand, she placed it against his chest. “If I keep what, Sebastien?”

He groaned and leaned into her.

His weight had her stumbling back and he followed until she was pressed against the wall of the house, his weight securely pinning her in place.

The heat of him was shocking, the heavy width of his chest flattening her breasts.

“Tell me to stop, Marin,” he said in warning. “Or . . .”

This time, he pressed his lips to her neck.

She let her head fall to the side, eyes closed. This was stupid.

It was so stupid.

But as he skimmed his hands down her sides, she reached for his biceps and clung. Hard muscle bunched under her fingers. He moved between her thighs more fully and through her skirt, she felt more of him and her head started to spin.

“Tell me . . .”

She reached up and shoved her fingers into his hair, tugging his head back.

His gaze focused on her face. “Do you see me?” she demanded.

“All the f*cking time.” He bit her lower lip, then stroked the small hurt with his tongue.

She almost collapsed into a whimpering puddle of want, but forced herself to keep her eyes on his face, searching for . . . something. He was steady on his feet. He was looking straight at her.

When he kissed her, Marin felt her toes start to curl and she decided she was done trying to think.

Her hands slid under his shirt.

***

Sebastien had been waiting for them to press against his chest and shove him away, but instead, she curled her fingers in the hair she found and tugged.

He nipped her lower lip again, briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep somewhere between the deck and his bedroom and was now dreaming.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

If so . . .

Sliding one hand down her thigh, he began to gather up fistfuls of the loose, flowing skirt, baring long, long legs. The frothy, fussy material was so female, so Marin, and the thought of having her just like that, there where they stood, went straight to his head. He found the waistband of her panties and slid his hand inside, seeking out her curls and swearing when he found her already wet.

She closed around the two fingers he thrust into her, a low moan vibrating out of her and he kissed her roughly. “Again . . . Moan for me again.”

He screwed his fingers in and out until she did, again . . . and again. He wasn’t even satisfied when she came against his hand, though. He jerked at her panties until the fragile silk tore. Her eyes widened, then a faint grin curled her lips. “They would have come off pretty easy.”

“That requires that I stop touching.” He picked her up, guiding her legs around his hips. Her skirt still tangled between them, but he left it alone. As soon as that skirt went up, he was coming inside her, and then he’d just be coming and it would be all over.

Not yet.

Not yet.

He went for the hem of her shirt instead and peeled it upward, slowly, baring the long, elegant torso he’d seen hundreds of times, during take after take when they’d shot scenes for the movies they’d done together.

But this was different.

Letting the tank fall to the floor, he reached for the front clasp of her bra, staring into her eyes as he stripped it away. Her face was flushed, a few stray locks of her hair escaping the clip to frame her face. “Take your hair down.”

She reached up for the hair clip. As the golden strands fell to her shoulders, he took the clip from her clenched fist and tossed it over his shoulder. With his hands, he smoothed her hair down. The ends of her hair brushed against her nipples and he let the flats of his hands brush against her, wishing his head was clearer. “Wanna remember,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

“Please . . .” She arched against him, pushing her breasts more completely into his palms.

Her nipples were tight and hard, stabbing into his palms and he wanted to curl his tongue around each of them and suck until she gasped out his name.

So that’s what he did.

She was crying out and twisting against him within minutes and the feel of her squirming against his cock turned the material between them into an unbearable barrier.

He kissed a burning path up to her mouth. When she licked his lower lip, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, bit her lightly before breaking the kiss. Panting, he stared at her as he eased her legs down from his hips, unzipping his jeans. He’d showered earlier, skipped underwear because he hadn’t had anybody in to do laundry in a while and was too lazy to do it himself.

Marin’s breath hitched. He watched as she slid her tongue across her lips, and then let her gaze drift down.

When she reached out a hand and closed it around him, tugging him free of his jeans, Sebastien groaned and thrust into her touch.

She ran her thumb across the head while he grabbed her skirt and dragged it up.

“No more,” he said, brushing her hair aside and boosting her up. “I want to feel you wrapped around me. Now.”

“Sebastien . . .”

They came together; both of them moaned.

For Sebastien, it was the sweetest sensation ever, and he kept his eyes on Marin’s face. The sight of her eyes going wide and glassy was enough to draw a deep, vicious satisfaction from him.