Page 11 of The Bodyguard's Bookworm
“It’s delicious,” he says.
I scoff. “You barely tasted it.”
“I tasted enough.”
The oven hums behind me, still heating, and the scent of garlic and tomato fills the space between us. He’s close now. Not touching me, but close enough that I can see the exact shade of his dark blue eyes and the small scar near his eyebrow.
His voice drops. “Would you be mad if I kissed you without the downpour?”
My breath leaves me. The question should make me laugh. Instead, it sends heat straight through me, because I know exactly what he’s asking. Not just whether he can kiss me, but whether I’m ready to stop pretending I don’t want him to.
“I suppose I’d survive,” I say.
His hand comes to the back of my neck, broad and warm, and then his mouth is on mine. The kiss is slow at first, tender enough to make my chest ache, but there’s strength beneath it. Control. Hunger. He kisses me as if he’s been waiting with everypart of himself, and the first stroke of his tongue makes a soft sound break in my throat.
Connor hears it. His other hand moves to my hip, and he draws me closer. My hands slide up his chest, over hard muscle and warm skin beneath his shirt, and our kiss deepens. One kiss turns into another, and then another, until I lose track of everything but his mouth and the heavy, hot pulse building between my thighs.
The oven beeps.
I pull back, dazed, my lips wet and my body aching. “The pasta.”
Connor’s eyes are dark. “Right.”
I assemble the dish with shaking hands, layering pasta, sauce, cheese, and sausage while he stands behind me close enough to ruin my concentration. When I slide it into the oven and close the door, I have to grip the handle for a second to steady myself.
“How long?” he asks.
“Half an hour.”
His hand reaches for my hip. “Good enough.”
Then he turns me back to him, and we’re kissing again.
This time there’s less patience. He backs me out of the kitchen and down the short hall, his mouth hot on mine, one hand firm at my waist and the other sliding into my hair. I walk backward because I don’t want to stop kissing him long enough to turn around. By the time we reach my bedroom, I’m breathless, my whole body buzzing with need.
Connor pins me against the wall just inside the door. His hands brace on either side of me, caging me in. “You need me to slow down?”
“No. God, no.”
His control cracks. He kisses me harder, and I feel the full force of him then. The size. The strength. The hunger he’s beenholding back. His hands move to the hem of my top, and he pulls it up, watching every inch of me that he uncovers. My bra follows, then his mouth is on my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts. When he closes his lips around one hardened nipple, I gasp and arch into him, and his low groan rolls through me.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he says against my skin. “Every inch of you.”
My jeans are next. He opens them with controlled hands, then tears them down my hips with my underwear. I should feel vulnerable standing naked in front of a man built the way Connor is, but the look on his face makes anything other than self-assurance impossible. He looks wrecked. Reverent. Starving.
Then he drops to his knees.
My back hits the wall as he lifts one of my thighs over his shoulder and puts his mouth between my legs.
I cry out, both hands digging into his hair. Connor groans against me, and the vibration makes my knees go weak. His mouth is hot and sure, his tongue dragging through my cream before circling my clit with devastating patience. He learns me with frightening speed, following every gasp, every tremble, every helpless tug of my hands in his hair.
“Connor,” I plead, though I don’t know what I’m asking for.
He looks up at me from between my thighs, his mouth wet, his eyes so dark I can barely breathe. Then he sucks my clit, and the orgasm tears through me. I come against his mouth, shaking hard, my hips rolling helplessly as he holds me up and keeps licking until I’m sobbing from the pleasure.
When he rises, I pull at his shirt with desperate hands. He helps me get it off, then his belt, his jeans, the rest of his clothes. His cock is huge, thick and hard between us, and the sight of it sends a fresh wave of need through my already desperate body.
We end up on the floor because neither of us can wait. Connor gets me on my back and settles between my thighs, one arm braced beside my head. “Emi.”
