Page 80 of Tracked
I wanted this—needed him.My sister’s ex-boyfriend.
Calder’s other hand returned to my nape, taking my wet hair and winding it like a rope around his fist. I didn’t realize his intent until my head was being firmly arched back, baring my throat and the greedy thrum of my pulse to his lips.
“What are you doing to me?” he rasped, his breath hot where it blew over my damp skin.
Whatever answer he wanted, he was going to take it directly from my skin.
His teeth scraped over the erratic beats of my pulse, back and forth like a predator playing with his prey.
I whimpered, feeling his cock thicken, stoking the heat in my stomach that unraveled me from the inside out. “Please, Calder ...” I squirmed against him, begging for more pressure. More friction.More dynamite.
The bracket of his hand cinched on my waist, stilling me. “Fuck,” Calder muttered like a man losing his grip on reality.
He wasn’t the only one.
Crazy or not. Cult or not. I needed from Calder exactly what Dr. Julia had said—I needed that part of him that let me take without worry, that let me be needy without fear of not being in control.
Breathing heavy, he took the bottom of my shirt and peeled it like wrapping paper from my torso and over my head; it landed with a wetthwackon the ground.
Calder held my gaze for a torturous second, my breasts coated in goose bumps, aching for the burn of his stare. And then his jaw fired, the tension like a bullet loaded in the chamber, ready to fire and ravage anything in its path.
I pressed my fingers to the knot of muscle like I could coax it to release, and in reply, he turned his head and sank his teeth into the meat of my palm until I gasped in delicious pain.
“Calder . . .”
He buried a savage sound into my palm, an incoherent confession of a need there were no words to describe, and then released my flesh, his hunger finding a new destination.
His chin lowered and leveled with my chest, my breasts so heavy and aching, I could’ve cried for his touch. But he didn’t move—didn’t touch. Instead, he stared, his pupils blown wide as my nipples drew into even tighter beads, begging for attention.
Sliding his palms to span my ribs, Calder let out a ragged breath and muttered, “God, how I’ve dreamed of you.”
My unsteady pulse went into a riot, throwing my heart against the wall of my chest. I wanted to confess to dreaming of him, too, but lost my ability when he bent forward and pressed his lips to my sternum in a reverent kiss.
A slow, tender second elapsed before his teeth marked a fresh path toward my aching nipple, searing a sizzling agony to my skin.
My hands slid from his broad shoulders toward his neck, needing something to hold on to. Bracing for when his feral mouth reached my—
Boom!
Calder froze, his exhale the only part of him that ever reached my breast.
“Calder,” I murmured, the fugue of my desire forced to clear.
Was that—no, that wasn’t thunder. It was too sharp. Too piercing.
My stomach dropped. “Was that—”
“Shh,” he warned with a finger to his lips and his head cocked, listening.
If there was something else to hear, I couldn’t through the storm or over my pounding heart.
“Calder—” I broke off with a small cry as he rose, taking me with him as easily as if I were a rag doll. But he didn’t take me far. Turning, he set me right where he’d been sitting.
His head jerked again, and I heard it, too: the sound of shouting in the distance.
“Stay here,” Calder ordered and pulled free from my limp, panicked limbs.
“Wait—”
