Page 13 of Hot Buttered Kisses

He breaks away, breathing hard, pressing his forehead to mine. “This is happening. Full stop. I’m done pretending.”

“We have to talk,” I insist, hating my reasonable side.

“We will talk,” he promises, mouth brushing mine before I find the will to protest. “After. Right now, I’ll die if I don’t make you mine.”

“We definitely don’t want that.” I drag his lips back down to mine.

He lifts me off the counter, cradling me like I weigh nothing, and carries me down the hall toward my bedroom. My heart is pounding so hard I think it might explode. I’m vaguely aware that my hair is a mess, my pajamas are ancient, and my apartment looks like a crime scene, but none of it matters because Eamon is kissing me like there’s no tomorrow.

He lifts me up and deposits me onto the bed—a little reckless, a little gentle. My gaze sticks shamelessly to him: the way his chest rises and falls, the ropes of muscle in his arms, that wild swirl of black-and-blue ink curling under his ribs. I drink it all in, greedy. My eyes snag on the tiny scar above his left nipple, and for the first time, I notice a thin, silver barbell through his left nipple. Holy hell. That’s so freaking hot, I nearly forget to breathe. He stands over me, chest heaving, and it hits me that I’ve never seen him this raw, this unguarded.

Oh. My. God.

He’s so goddamn gorgeous. And dangerous. I swear, every cell in my body is vibrating from the way he’s looking at me.

He doesn’t say a word as he unfastens his belt, slow and deliberate, all heat and focus.

My brain goes into full meltdown, and I can’t look away or even blink.

He slides the belt out and drops it to the floor with a heavy thunk. For a second, I honestly think I might pass out because, holy hell, he’s even hotter out of a suit. His slacks hang low on his hips, and the shape of him is so insanely male it scrambles my IQ down to single digits. My mouth actually waters.

“You like what you see, Sunshine?” His voice is low and rough and one hundred percent smug.

“It’s okay.” I shrug, not sure how I manage to lie with a straight face.

But Eamon doesn’t call me out. He just gives me this lazy, cocky half-smile that makes my brain completely short-circuit. “That so?” he murmurs, and then he’s crawling up the bed, all muscle and heat and pure, undiluted male. My breath catches in my throat as he brackets my hips with his giant hands and drops a kiss right between my breasts, just above the neckline of my ancient sleep tee.

Oh, man. I’m in so much trouble.

He moves up and runs his tongue along my collarbone. His stubble scrapes my skin, and I swear to God, it’s like my entire nervous system is being rewired by that one tiny touch. I shudder, arching into him, and Eamon just laughs, low and dangerous. “Liar,” he growls, and rips my sleep shirt in half right down the middle. My hands fist in the bedsheets as he closes his lips around one of my nipples.

I forget how to breathe for, like, a full ten seconds while my brain makes a high-pitched shrieking noise and every atom in my body implodes. Eamon just growls low in his throat and sucks harder, like he’s absolutely obsessed. He palms my other breast, rolling the nipple between his blunt fingers, then bites down gently, and my entire nervous system shuts down.

He doesn’t let up, not even for a second. It’s like he’s making up for every year he kept me at arm’s length. All that intensity and hunger, zero filter, no brakes. My back arches off the mattress as he makes his way lower, mapping a path down my torso, and by the time his mouth finds the waistband of my shorts, I’m ready to self-combust. He hooks his thumbs under the elastic and tugs them down, slow and torturous, then kisses the inside of my thigh. His hot breath fans over my skin, and I squirm, desperate for him to hurry the fuck up, but he just takes his time driving me wild.

He kisses a trail up my inner thigh, and my breath gets all tangled in my chest. I can’t move, can’t even think, because then his tongue flicks over my clit and everything inside me short-circuits. He works me with maddening, laser-focused precision, licking and sucking, slow and relentless. Every time I think I’m about to topple over the edge, he backs off and leaves me quivering, so desperate I’m practically melting into the sheets.

“Please,” I gasp, nails digging shamelessly into his scalp. I’m not above begging. Not even close.

He just laughs, and the low, hungry sound sends a whole new rush of heat straight through me. “I love when you beg.”

With one final, wicked swirl of his tongue, he sends me flying. I shatter, every muscle in my body pulled tight before finally dissolving all at once as the orgasm tears through me. His eyes hold mine, like he’s determined to memorize every wild second of this. Every bit of me, coming apart just for him.

When I finally catch my breath, he moves up the bed, settling next to me. His cock is hard, straining against his pants, and I reach for him, fumbling with the buttons. Eamon growls my name as I finally, finally get his slacks open. I shove them down over his hips and, holy moly, he’s massive. Like, “should come with a warning label” huge.

My brain is shrieking, but my mouth is watering, and I can’t stop staring. Eamon just smirks down at me, all cocky and alpha, like he knew I’d be obsessed. He kicks his pants away and palms himself, stroking slowly, and a pearl of wetness beading at the tip. I reach for his cock and push his hand away before wrapping my fingers around the thick base. It’s so hot and heavy in my hand. I squeeze and Eamon’s whole body goes tight, every muscle straining like he’s fighting for control. Holy wow, I could get drunk on the power. I stroke him slowly at first, then faster, loving the way his jaw flexes and his breath saws in and out of his chest.

“You’re going to kill me,” he grits out, eyes half-wild, and honestly, I’m kinda aiming for it.

I swirl my thumb over the tip and feel a shudder roll through him, deep and violent, like I just short-circuited every neuron in his body. He pins me with that blue-steel stare, daring me to keep going, so I do.

He groans a dark, needy sound that does insane things to my girly parts and cradles my face in his hands. The kiss he gives me is so rough and crazy, I almost forget what I’m doing.

“Open your legs for me, Sunshine.”

My thighs fall open before my brain can even process the command. One second, I’m barely holding it together, and then Eamon’s hand slides between my legs and I go absolutely bonkers.

Like, I think my soul leaves my body for a second.