Page 52 of Mine
My cheeks flame. I shrug, like we’re discussing the weather, not my total and utter lack of sexual experience. He continues to stare at me in open fascination, like I’m some sort of mythical creature who escaped from some faraway forest.
His ebony eyes flare behind his glasses. ‘Fuck, how is that even possible?’ His pupils blaze with a heat so powerful I’m in danger of melting.
I cock my head. ‘I never met anyone I wanted.’ The wordbeforehangs unspoken like a guillotine waiting to drop.
But I want him.
Of all the men in the world—I want him.
He’s everything I spent my life trying to escape. It’s irrational. Completely and utterly inappropriate. And it shouldn’t happen if I have any hope of building a life away from crime. A life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder. But tell that to my vagina.
‘Fuck, I had no idea.’ A flicker of guilt pinches his features. He removes his glasses and presses his fingers to the corners of his eyes.
I’ve seen him without them when he’s asleep, but never like this.
His eyes… they’re beautiful. The complete opposite of Rory’s soulless ones. Dom’s are deep with warmth. Genuine warmth. Compassion. Desire.
And for one terrifying second, I swear I see something softer staring back at me. Something that looks suspiciously like love.
No.
It absolutely can’t be.
But I swear he sees me as something worth protecting instead of possessing.
And maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
‘I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have come on so strongly.’ He shoves his glasses back up onto his nose again, depriving me of all the depth there, but I’ve seen it now, and I can’t unsee it. Nor can I stop thinking about if he’d take them off or leave them on if he were to fuck me.
What is wrong with me?
‘I’m glad you did.’ And the truth of that statement hits me like a freight train. I want all of the dark, decadent, depraved fantasies he threw at me earlier. I want to be tied up. Licked and sucked and spanked and teased. And I want him to be the man to do it to me.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He presses his lips to my temple and resumes stroking my clit with his fingers. ‘The things I could teach you.’
His finger dips back down to my slit, and a satisfied smirk curls his lips as he finds fresh proof of my arousal.
‘Teach me.’ I cling onto his chest as he teases my mouth with his tongue, mimicking the movement of his fingers.
‘I will, but on my terms. I refuse to rush this.’ He swallows. ‘The first time should be special. I don’t want you to regret it.’
‘I already know I won’t.’
White hot pleasure builds between my legs, and I sink my fingers tighter into his skin. He pulls back, staring at me in open fascination as he wrecks my body with pleasure. ‘Come for me, Aoife, good girl.’
And I do.
‘Dom,’ I cry as my release rips through me, obliterating the entire world as I know it.
He kisses me again, swallowing my moans, holding me upright until the last wave of pleasure ebbs away, leaving me with the stark realisation: I’m in way out of my depth.
Because while my body burns for him, my brain warns me that if I give myself to him, give him what I’ve never considered giving another, it won’t just be that he takes—it’ll be my heart.
From the second we met, he’s occupied almost every single one of my waking thoughts, and most of my sleeping ones too.
I never craved a man before.
Why the hell do I crave him more than my next breath?
