Page 62 of Shadow Of Sin

That sound destroys me.

His other hand finds my waist. He doesn’t pull me close. Doesn’t grip me tight. He just holds me, his fingers pressing into the fabric of my shirt like he’s memorizing the shape and feel of me. I shift closer in response. My knee is pressed against his thigh and there’s no space between us anymore. His mouth is warm, and he tastes so fucking sweet…like honey…and my brain is dissolving into static.

His hand moves from my jaw into the back of my hair. His fingers tangle in it and a butterfly swarm erupts in my belly. His tongue coils lazily with mine, electricity shooting to the ends of my hair. For those minutes, the world narrows down to his mouth, and his hands, and the sound he made, and the heat building between us like something with its own pulse.

His thumb strokes the side of my neck. My whole body reacts. I press closer, melting into him. His grip on my waist tightens…just barely, just enough that I can feel the control he’s struggling to keep. And knowing that he’s holding back makes me want to break through that barrier completely. I want to shatter the hell out of it.

I want to. God, I want to.

But then his hand slides to the small of my back. The warmth of his palm scorches my skin and sends a jolt through me that’s so sharp it cracks through the carnal haze. Not because it’s wrong. Because it’s right. So freaking right and good. Because my body wants to lean all the way in, and my brain just caught up to what my body’s been doing and it’s screaming at me to stop.

Not because of him. Because of me. Because with Daniel, I let myself fall without question. And then, I ended up in a courtroom first, jail second.

I pull away. Breaking that kiss takes everything I have. Every muscle in my body fights me on it, and the sound that comes out of my mouth when I break the kiss…a ragged breath that sounds suspiciously like a whimper…is embarrassing as hell.

His eyes are open. Of course they are. Wolfe Molloy doesn’t close his eyes during a kiss because closing his eyes would mean missing data.

But they look different than I’ve ever seen them. They’re dark, unfocused, and glazed, like his brain just short-circuited.

“You’re staring,” I whisper. My lips are still close enough to his that I can feel his breath.

“I can’t help it.”

“It looks like your brain just went offline.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “It’s a little slow to reboot.” His hand is still on the small of my back. Neither of us has moved to remove it.

My heart slams against my ribs. My skin is on fire everywhere he touched me. His hand on my back is burning through my shirt. I want to push it lower, and I want to run out the door, and I want to kiss him again until neither of us can think straight.

“I should go,” I say, clearing my throat.

“Yeah.” His voice is rough. Rougher than I’ve ever heard it.

I don’t move.

“Eva.”

“Yeah.”

“If you don’t move, I’m going to kiss you again. And I’m not sure I’ll stop.”

“Is that a warning or a promise?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

I stare at him. His hand is still on my back. His eyes are still dark. And every cell in my body is at war with every thought firing in my brain.

I pull his hand away from my back. I hold it for a second. His pulse throbs in his wrist. It’s fast, hard, matching mine.

“Not yet,” I say.

He nods. Once. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t push. He watches me stand up and doesn’t say a single word to make me stay.

Goddammit. That’s the thing that makes me want to stay the most.

I walk to the door and stop with my hand on the handle. Because apparently that’s my thing now.

“Wolfe,” I say, turning to look at him one last time.