Page 40 of Ruthless Vow
“Is that a complaint?”
His gaze blazes. “It’s a warning.”
Then he’s on me again, harder now, and my body gives against his. My fingers dig into his arms just to stay upright. A moan escapes me, low and unfamiliar, and he swallows it whole.
He pulls back. Looks at me.
“That sound.” His voice is raw. “Make it again.”
Heat floods my face. “I don’t. I don’t usually do that.”
“With me, you do.”
His grip tangles in my hair. Tilts my head back. Takes us deeper.
I’m still on my side, facing him, but my body strains closer. My fingers find the hem of his shirt. Damp cotton, then bare skin beneath. Hot. Smooth.
He goes rigid when my nails scrape down his spine.
“Careful.” The word comes out strangled.
“Why?”
“Because I’m holding on by a fucking thread.”
I do it again. Harder.
He groans, a sound that shoots straight to my core, and then he’s moving. One moment we’re side by side. The next, he’s above me. Hips settling between mine, his arms braced on either side of my head. The weight of him presses me into the mattress until I’m pinned, held, surrounded. Cedar and smoke fill my lungs with every breath.
The world tilts.
I pull him closer. Kiss him with everything I’ve hidden.
He returns to my neck. The heat of him against my throat. Then he presses into the hollow below my ear, the spot no one has ever found, and my back arches off the mattress.
“Right there.” I barely recognize my own voice. “Please.”
“Here?” He presses again. Deliberate. “You like that.”
“God, Dante.”
“There she is.” Low. Satisfied.
He opens against my throat. Tasting. Learning the places that make me shake. My head falls back, offering him the column of my neck.
“Everything.” The word escapes me. “I’m giving you everything.”
“I know.” His voice vibrates against my skin. “I know you are.”
His touch traces where fabric meets skin. The strap of my nightgown slides down my shoulder. Cool air meets my skin the same moment warmth covers the exposed curve. Stubble rasping. The contrast makes me shiver.
“Bella.” The word lands against my collarbone. Rough. Reverent.
I thread my fingers through his hair. Tug until he groans. The sound shoots straight to my core. I do it again just to hear that noise. To know I have that power over him.
Me.
The invisible girl who counts everything. Making the most dangerous man in New Orleans groan.
