Page 56 of Sangre
“I was a fuckin’ idiot for not trying to contact you,” he said in a low voice.
“I won’t argue with you about that.” Dipping her chin slightly, she looked up at him from under her lashes.
The way the light hit her face made her eyes ignite with a glow that dazzled him. She slowly moved her gaze from his down to his mouth, staring at it for a few seconds and then looking back up to his eyes.
“Right now, it doesn’t seem like all those years have gone by.” Without breaking her gaze, she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue.
Fuck.He couldn’t stop himself from gazing at her parted lips, imagining his hard as granite cock sliding between them, pushing in and out until he filled her. His eyes moved to the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, the musky scent of arousal penetrating his nostrils.
“Did you ever think about me?” She stared at his mouth for a long moment.
“What?” A fog of lust had clouded his brain, making it hard to concentrate on what she was saying.
“I asked if you ever thought about me over the years. I know I’ve thought about you.”
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I thought about you a lot. I wondered how you were, what you looked like, and other things.”
“And how do I look?” Her gaze went back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted her.
“Damn hot.”
She ran her fingernail over his lips, past his chin, and down his throat until resting it on his pecs. “You’re pretty hot yourself. I bet you have a ton of women wanting you.”
“You’re fuckin’ killing me,” he rasped, his arm snagging her around the waist, yanking her to him.
Then they were kissing like crazy. Like their lives depended on it. Lips grinding. Teeth biting. Tongues tangling in a frenzied dance. She knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat as he wrapped his fingers through her hair, thrusting his tongue deeper into her warm mouth. She tasted like rum and pineapple, and the scent of her curled around and stroked him, and he want so much more.
Pushing her down, he pressed the weight of his body on top of her, letting her feel his hardness. Heat filled him as she writhed against him. The small sounds she made drove him wild, and he slid a hand up her thigh, pushing under her short skirt, touching skin he’d fantasized about ever since high school. The soft feel of her was incredible and more than he’d imagined it would be. But then, everything about her was irresistible. It always had been.
“Sangre,” she rasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
He slipped his hand between her legs, resting it on the soft flesh of her inner thigh all the while his mouth was still fused with hers.
Door chimes resounded through the house, and she stiffened under his touch. “Forget about it,” he said hoarsely as his fingers crept slowly over her silky skin, inching toward her panties. He was pretty sure that when he pushed them aside, her soft folds would be slick with need. He couldn’t wait to taste her, to push inside her, first with his fingers then his tongue, and then his cock.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Isla twisted under him as she placed her palms on his shoulders and pushed him gently away.
“What the fuck?”
“Someone’s at the door.”
“You can’t be serious. Who the hell cares?” He drew her back to him, but she resisted.
“It could be important.”
Frustration stabbed his body as he sat back on the couch watching her pull her skirt down and walk out of the room. For a second he just sat there, pissed as hell, waiting for his cock to calm down, but then he remembered that a wacko was stalking her and leapt up from the couch. When he got to the door, he saw a skinny guy with black hair, brown eyes, and a crooked nose staring at him. With the tats, the jean vest with a ton of band patches, and a spike cuff bracelet on his right wrist, he looked like a rocker.
“Who’re you?” he asked.
The man jerked his head back as he stepped into the foyer. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is Arsen– our lead guitarist.” Isla kept smoothing down her hair, avoiding Arsen’s gaze. “And this is Sangre. His company is the one who’s protecting me. Remember I told you I hired a bodyguard service? It turns out that Sangre and I are old friends from back in the day when I lived here. A small world, isn’t it?” She glanced at Sangre.
He grunted and stared at Arsen. The rocker flitted his eyes between them, and Sangre knew he wasn’t buying Isla’s bullshit for one minute. She looked like the musician had interrupted something: hair tangled, lips red and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and black smudges under her eyes. Satisfaction spread through Sangre as he watched realization spark in Arsen’s gaze.If he’s anything like Army and some of the other brothers, he’ll hightail it outta here as fast as he can to tell the fucker who doesn’t deserve Isla.
“Do you want a drink? I just bought a bunch of shooters. It’s been so hot that I had the urge to make a bunch of tropical drinks.”
