Page 72 of Iron Shield
He didn’t finish the thought. He pressed his lips to her jaw, her throat, the spot below her ear that made her breath hitch.
She caught the edge of his shirt and tugged it upward. He shifted his arms and let her take it off him.
Then her palms were flat on his chest and her mouth on his and he stopped thinking about the dead end and the planted face in the photograph.
He thought about nothing but Stina.
He whipped off her top and cupped her full, bare breasts. When he swished his thumbs over the crests, she dropped her head back and arched into his touch.
God, this woman was going to break him if he wasn’t careful.
Cradling her head, he plunged his tongue between her lips, gathering more of those tormenting little noises. Still plundering her, he lay her down on his bed. She reached for his fly, and he caught her wrist.
“Not yet.” His chest heaved from the effort to say the words.
She searched his eyes, her brow crinkled. “Rome—”
“Let me.” He brought her wrist to his mouth and brushed his lips to the inside of it just to feel her pulse leap against his tongue. “I want to make you feel good first.”
The protest died, and he took full advantage of her silence, working his way down her body from her collarbone to the swell of her breast, taking his time with her, flicking his tongue over her stiff nipple. As he drew it into his mouth and gave a soft pull, she moaned.
But when he sucked harder, she arched and twisted her fingers in his hair.
He moved lower, one hand skimming the flat of her stomach, memorizing the way her muscles tightened under his palm. She still wore panties, and he cupped her pussy through the thin fabric.
“Rome!” she bit off.
Watching her face, he slid a finger down the seam all the way to the damp heat of her entrance. When he applied pressure with his fingertip, she dug her fingers into his shoulders.
“Please.” The word came out with a moan as he tore the last barrier away.
He threw her legs over his shoulders and went down on her.
She gasped his name as his tongue landed on her slippery folds. He gathered her juices and coaxed out more with small flicks. Trapping her clit under his mouth, he stole a look at her beautiful face in the throes of pleasure.
He worked her with soft pulls of his mouth and flips of his tongue until she was shaking and her thighs clamped around his head.
He felt her building and hit her breaking point—her full-body shudder vibrated through him too. She cried out over and over as her release consumed her. He held her through it, slowing his tongue until her body went liquid and her breath came in ragged huffs.
Only then did he kiss his way back up her body.
This time when she reached for his pants, he let her. She worked the zipper with unsteady hands and pushed the cloth down. As she drew his cock into her hand, his jaw clenched from the effort of holding still.
She pulled him closer, placing her lips at his ear. “I want you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
The way she said it—all of you—struck him in the chest like a blast. He told himself she meantthis—the physical. The here and now in the dark with the taste of her on his tongue.
But part of him had another interpretation.
He’d been calling this fling with her just that—proximity, circumstance.
Or the need to make her quit arguing even if he stopped it with a kiss.
But hovering over her with her heartbeat against his ribs and her hair teasing his skin, he was running out of ways to believe it.
He was in serious trouble.
* * * * *
