Page 50 of Fierce-Baker

The kind they’d been helping themselves to for days when they were together.

Only this time there was nothing to get in their way.

Nothing to stop them. Nothing to turn them back.

She met him beat for beat.

No shyness. No hesitation. Just fire.

Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt as he devoured her lips, tasting the urgency, the need, and the certainty.

He kissed her deeper, slower, as if he had all the time in the world, and he planned to use every second of it on her.

Because he did.

His mouth lingered on hers, softer now, like he was memorizing the taste of her before the moment shifted into something neither of them could walk back from.

When he finally pulled away, her lips were flushed, her breath unsteady, her eyes dark and fixed on him like he was the only solid thing in the room.

“Baker…” she whispered with equal parts of warning and wanting.

He brushed a thumb over her cheek, let it trail to her jaw, to her throat, feeling the quick pulse beneath his fingertips. “Are you sure?”

Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all he needed.

He swung her up and into his arms, cradled her, his mouth claiming her for another kiss that would stop both of their thoughts.

He knew the layout of her place, the same as his, and made his way toward the primary suite, pushing the door open with his foot, then laying her on the bed.

When he wanted to stand back up, she wouldn’t release the death grip on his shirt, forcing him to land on top of her on the mattress, the breath knocked out of both of them.

He turned her quickly, putting her on his chest, she brought her knees up and spread them around his hips, her hands reaching for the bottom of his shirt and tugging it over his head.

“You can do the same for me,” she said, laughing.

Her nerves were gone. He could see it. He could feel it.

She was playful now.

Her shirt was up and over her head just as quickly, his fingers reaching for the button on those dangerously short shorts.

He caught a glimpse of white silk and groaned.

“Now I know you’re trying to torture me. It’s as if you knew my weakness.”

She laughed, a sexy throaty sound. “I’m glad I found one, but just took a guess. I like the way silk feels against me. But I’m positive it won’t stay on long.”

His hands went for her white bra, found the clasp on her back and quickly unhooked that before sending it flying to the floor.

“Nothing is staying on you long,” he said, then shifted her fast enough she hit the mattress on her back, bouncing once, her hands then reaching for the button on his shorts.

He shook his head. If he lost any more of his clothing he’d be done in an instant. No reason to embarrass himself over his lack of control.

Not without at least getting her there first.

Sliding down her body, his mouth landed on a rose-colored perky nipple begging for his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.