Page 69 of Shadow Of Sin

“Mine too.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

His fingers close around mine. Not tight. Just there.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says. “I don’t know the right order or the right words or⁠—”

“Just stop thinking,” I murmur.

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

I pull him toward me by his hand, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him.

This kiss is nothing like the one we shared on his couch. There’s nothing careful or tentative about it. This kiss has days of “not yet” behind it, a death threat in front of it, the understanding that tomorrow everything changes, and tonight is the only sure thing either of us has.

His hands find my waist, and this time they’re not gentle. I gasp as he digs his fingers into my hips and pulls me flush against him. If I could think straight, I’d be embarrassed about the sound that just tore out of my throat. But I can’t, because while his lips are assaulting my neck, his teeth graze my skin. And my knees damn near give out.

“Wolfe—” His name comes out broken. I grip the edge of his t-shirt and shove it up and away from his chest so I can feel his skin against my palms. He reaches back and pulls it over his head in one motion and my breath hitches. I trace my finger over the scars and the cuts of muscle his band shirts have been hiding.

I dip my head and lick a path over his pecs. His stomach tightens when my fingers trace down the center of it.

“Eva.” He sucks in a breath. “Don’t stop.”

I pull my shirt off next. His eyes drop to my breasts and his pupils blow wide, and for a few long seconds, he doesn’t move or breathe. He just looks at me with an expression so raw and hungry and overwhelmed that my entire body flushes with a raging heat.

“You can touch me,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

His hands land on my ribcage and slowly slide up the sides of my torso. His thumbs trace the curve underneath my bra, and I shiver at his touch, at the sparks of lust glowing in the cool blue pools fixed on my face.

I reach behind my back and unhook my bra. It falls to the floor.

“Fuck. You’re—” He stops and swallows hard. “I don’t have a word.”

“You don’t need one.”

His mouth drops to my collarbone. Then lower. His hands map my body like he’s memorizing it, every curve, every inch of skin, and the thing that’s wrecking me isn’t the technique—it’s the focus. The complete, total, laser focus. Like I’m the only system he’s ever cared about cracking, and he’s going to learn every single piece of me if it takes all night.

And my God, I’m going to make sure it does.

We make it to the bedroom. Barely. Our hands are in a complete frenzy, our mouths voracious. His back hits the wall outside the door. I press into him, grinding my hips against his cock, tugging at his hair. He slides his hands down my spine to my ass and he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist and his mouth finds mine again, and we kiss until I can’t breathe and my heart swells to the point where it might just explode out of my chest.

He lays me on the bed and stands over me, his eyes drinking me in and heating up my insides, nothing like the analytical stare I’m used to. These eyes are dark, intense, and starving.

I reach for the waistband of his jeans and pull him down on top of me.

The rest of our clothes come off in a tangle of hands and fabric and heavy breathing. I reach over to my nightstand, pull open the drawer, and grab a condom. He takes it from me and rips it open with his teeth. But I hold a hand against his chest.

“Wait,” I say. I lick the palm of my hand and reach for his thick cock. A hiss of breath slips through his teeth when I touch him. Then I lift my head toward him and run my tongue over the tip before sucking him down. He grabs the sides of my head, thrusting against my lips as I stroke his corded length.

His chest heaves as I suck him harder and pull him deeper. “Jesus fuck,” he mutters.

I smile at the effect my oral assault is having on him.

“Eva.” He holds my face still. “Don’t make me come. Not yet.”

“Tell me what you want,” I whisper.