Page 22 of Preacher's Property

He presses his lips to mine and the last twenty-four hours melt away with every second of his smooth tongue wrapping around mine, making me warm and tingly. All my worrying is erased with the sounds of his groans.

“Mmm… you taste like chocolate.” He kisses me deeper. I swear every time he kisses me my toes curl. My whole body curls. “Brought you dinner, babe.”

“And bags,” I state, still wondering where he’s going.

“I’m moving in.”

I jerk back.

“You’re what?”

“Now that Payton’s moving in with Cage, there’s no one here to keep you company. There’s no one to protect you from all those pesky cops that come knocking on your door.”

He moves back in to kiss me again, but I turn my head, blocking his advance.

“Don’t you think we’re missing a few steps here? Jumping from winning a bet to living together? Doesn’t there have to be some dating in between?”

“I’m not trying to rush things, babe, or put the pressure on. We can take things slow. I’ll even sleep in my own room until you’re ready for more.”

I cock my brow. This man does not seem the type who won’t try to get into my pants every chance he gets. Sleep in his own bed? Yeah right.

“I don’t buy that for a second.”

“Want to bet?”

That lip curves up into a crooked little bend and I can barely formulate a response.

“Do you really think you can keep your hands to yourself?”

“Is that what you really want?”

No. “Yes.” That’s the right answer. Even though it doesn’t feel that way. A relationship needs to be based on more than just sex. It needs to be based on friendship, respect, and… love. Sex can muddy the water. Especially amazing sex. This man hypnotizes me with his orgasms and then I don’t think clearly. “I think we should get to know each other better.”

“I agree, baby.” He leans in, his nose skimming across my skin, forcing a shiver through my entire body. “But I can’t promise I won’t try to steal more kisses from you.” His tongue slips between my lips, and a gasping whimper emanates from my throat. “I can’t guarantee I won’t try to cop a feel.” His hands slide over my chest, giving my breasts a squeeze. Every circle of his thumb over my nipple causes my stomach to tighten. “I might need to rub this a bit, too.”

His hand travels lower. And lower. Teasing along the waistband of my flannel pants, only dipping low enough to drive me crazy.

“How far do I get to go without losing the bet, babe?”

“Lower,” I breathe into him.

I can feel that crooked smirk against my lips. It’s like a bow, shooting off its arrow and hooking me right in the heart.

“I think you want me to lose the bet.” His fingers slide over my panties, and I cling to his shoulders.

“Touching is okay.” I gasp for air as he rubs over my clit, just like he did my nipples. Around and around his thumb circles. Every rotation has my stomach clenching tighter.

“So, I’m allowed to get to second base?” His fingers slide into my panties, and my fingers claw into his leather cut as the heat strikes. “What about third, baby?” He starts working me over with two fingers, rubbing up and down, a steady cadence building me up with every stroke. “Am I allowed wrap my lips around this swollen little button?” He rubs it faster, applying more pressure, creating more tension, building and building.“Am I allowed to slide my tongue inside and lick at that special little spot?”

“Preacher!”

“It’s Jordyn, baby. You’re the only one who gets to scream my name.”

Oh God. The pressure is building so fast, I’m almost there.

“No mouth.” Otherwise, I’ll be riding that tongue every chance I get. “But making out is okay.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he groans. “Now, come for me, baby. I want to hear you scream my name.”