Page 46 of Intrepid

The first image showed a woman lying naked, blindfolded, her panties pulled down to mid-thigh.

Ty cocked a brow and flipped to another page, where another woman lay on the floor with her legs spread, as if peering into a mirror while she touched herself.

Clearing my throat, I sat back, tapping my finger on the table as I watched him peruse the book with pointed interest. “Yarek Godfrey. I find the images inspiring.”

Yet another page revealed a woman twisted with pleasure, a dark figure hovering over her with its hand up her asshole.

“For art, or sex?” he asked with a roguish grin.

I let my gaze fall from his, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Art is sex for me.”

He dragged his attention up from the page. “Then, why study Criminal Justice?”

With a sigh, I shrugged. “I dreamed of going to CCS and Cranbrook Academy. Wouldn’t even feel like school, ya know? It’d be like … I don’t know. Amazing.”

“So, what happened? Why’d you end up here?”

“Life.”

“Life, or parents?” Tipping his head, he smirked, luring my eyes to the delicious curve of his neck, the perfect angles of his jaw I imagined sketching, veins popping out with his tension and exertion, my eyes feasting on every peak and shadow of his body. “Sera?”

I blinked out of my musings. “Parent. My mother passed away when I was about nine.” Rubbing my hands together brought forth a flash memory, of messy paint spatters and my small handprint stamped in blue across her face as she laughed. “She would’ve told me to go after my dream.”

“You must miss her a lot.”

“Everyday.” I offered a slight smile, focusing on his hands to keep from tearing up. Though his fingers were long, they were masculine and dotted with scars I imagined he’d acquired through his line of work.

The next page showed a man holding a woman, her head tipped back as he devoured her neck in a passionate kiss.

“This is my favorite.” I sat forward, resting my elbows on the table, and eyes glued to the page, I studied the way the couple melded into each other.

“What makes it your favorite?”

“The way she surrenders to him. She trusts him and loses herself to him. There’s so much passion and heat. Some people go their whole lives and never feel that. It’s beautiful.” I ran my finger over the page, tracing the curves where their bodies came together perfectly in the painting.

Ty captured my hand, weaving his fingers in mine, staring at me. I could feel his eyes watching me, felt the heat, the want rolling off of him in waves. We sat like that for another minute or so, and then it stopped. Like a switch had been flipped, he retracted his hand and closed the book, shoving it back in front of me. “I have to go.”

He stood up from the table and, without saying goodbye, spun away from me and strode off.

A paper wedged inside the book he’d been studying snagged my attention. I tugged out the page filled with scribbles I didn’t bother to read, holding it up in the air. “Ty! Wait!” Jumping up from my chair knocked it backward in a clamor that failed to make him stop.

I caught up with him just in time for him to spin around and pin me to the bookshelves behind me, crinkling the paper in my hands. A surging tide of desire rolled through my veins, stoking my pulse. For one brief moment, he stared at my lips, and the energy between us crackled. I waited for the boom. As though he were lightning, and I thunder, and the pause in between were our heartbeats counting down the seconds.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four …

Until, at last, he pressed his lips to mine, and I could swear the earth shook beneath my feet. It weakened my knees as he held my wrists pinned. Set me off balance and lit up my sky with an electric heat so intense, it stole my breath.

I tugged the collar of his shirt, drawing him closer, kissing him harder, ravenously. He tasted like warm cinnamon on my tongue, and his lips were soft, but imposing. Demanding my surrender. My body melted into his, the electricity burning me where I stood clutching him for stability.

He groaned against my lips, lodging his fingers into my hair, and his other hand slipped beneath my thigh, hoisting me up. Pinned against the criminal psychology books behind me, I fought for the breath he stole from my mouth.

His kiss wasn’t sweet, or reverent, but fervent and greedy. It felt forbidden, as if we shouldn’t, for a hundred different reasons—not a single one of which came to mind in that moment. I didn’t want the air that wrenched at my lungs, because doing so meant breaking the kiss, floating back down to earth, and I wanted to stay in that place forever. I realized then, in that moment, I’d never truly been kissed before, and those who had kissed me hadn’t known what the hell they were doing.

Ty had transcended me.

His lips broke from mine first, our foreheads still pressed together as we fought for the small bit of air between us. Fingers loosening their grip, he set me back down, his eyes riveted on my mouth. One more slant of his lips over mine told me he was still hungry, and the sharp bite of his tangled fingers nipping at my scalp, along with the slight tremble in his arm, confessed the extent of his appetite.

Something deep inside my bones told me if we weren’t within earshot of others, he’d have torn me apart and left me begging for more.