Page 84 of Danger

“I need to clean this up,” he says as he moves between my legs, hooking one over his shoulder. His mouth is hot and wet against my thighs, kissing, licking, teasing. He spreads me open, and I gasp, my body trembling.

“You don’t have to,” I start to say, but he cuts me off with a hard suck on my clit, and my words dissolve into a choked moan.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says against me.

My nails dig into his shoulders again. I’m gasping for air, my body still trembling with aftershocks. Danger looks up from between my legs. His eyes are dark and completely gone. I can't look away, can't break this moment.

"You’re so gorgeous."

“I don’t feel?—”

“You are. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he says. His mouth is relentless, sucking, licking, driving me wild.

I grip the sheets, I lose focus, sight even.

Is it just because I’ve wanted him so badly that everything feels amplified? Like my nerves have been turned up too high and he somehow knows exactly where to press. Every touch lands deeper than it should.

I don’t know when he learned all my weak points. Or if he always knew. I just know one touch from him feels like too much—and not nearly enough.

And when the moment happens again, it’s different—deeper, more intense.

“Fuck, Danger,” I moan. My body is shaking. I can’t hold it back. “I’m about to?—”

I cover my mouth with a pillow, muffling the sounds because for all I know half the town is right on the street outside. But he doesn’t stop. He licks me and sucks me through it, his tongue fucking sinful, and I’m a trembling, writhing mess beneath him.

I’m shaking, body twisting forward, but he pins my hip down with a hand.

He doesn’t stop until I’m completely spent, and my mind has left my body.

“I could do this all night,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But the hour’s almost up. Can’t bail on my brother’s engagement party.”

Tonight has been everything I never expected it to be. He made me feel incredible. But I can’t figure out how someone can look at me the way he does and still hold himself back. I’ve seen him with that woman in the barn. Why does it feel like with me, he’s always stopping himself? I don’t even have to say anything. Somehow, this man can read every thought I wish he couldn't.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks.

I look away. “Nothing.”

“Say it.”

I look back at him. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

“Not yet.”

The answer shouldn't affect me the way it does. “But I know you’ve let other women?—”

“They’re not you, Winnie.”

I don't know if being me means I matter or if it means he's keeping me at a distance. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not someone I want to treat like everyone else.”

He sounds genuine when he says it. And maybe that’s what gets me—the fact that Danger Stetson, the man who seems impossible to read, is somehow the easiest person to believe. Even though I don’t understand why I’m different, I believe him.

“Okay. But I guess we still have to take the nasty boot shot. We didn’t break any rules.”

“No, we don’t,” he says.

I blink. “Why not?”