“Oh fuck. Fuck, this is fucking crazy. What are you doing?”
My hip brushes his hard length, causing him to buck furiously in search of more friction.
“Be patient,” I murmur as I pull away. The high, needy whine that comes out of him when he fucks up again and only meets air…I swear it makes me harder.
The soft lace of my boxers is torture right now. I’m achy and overly sensitive.
I’m ignoring it though, too focused on the blush crawling up Rowan’s neck. The twitches and moans that come with eachscrape and flick. I’ve always loved pain when it’s mixed with pleasure. Right now, if I’m doing it right, he’s feeling both.
“It’s too bad I don’t have any sounding wands,” I tease as I scrape the metal in my hand gently over the sensitive crown of his erection. Another kiss.
Just being an attentive lover. I’d do that for anyone.
His head moves as he tries to find the direction of my voice. “I-I don’t know what those are.”
“Probably for the best. They’re not for the faint of heart.”
He presses his lips together. Swallows hard. “Whatever it is, I can take it. I said you could do anything to me.”
Fuck that. Standing quickly, I land a firm slap to his cheek. “Don’t say that to anyone ever again. You have no idea how dangerous that is.”
He licks his lips, still moving his hips, inching his legs over, trying to touch me. “When we met you had a gun pointed at me. What’s more dangerous than that?”
Right now, I don’t have a good comeback. With my pulse climbing, I return to the bed.
Again, I pull away when he thrusts into the air. “Nuh-uh. Not yet.”
“God, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Can’t I at least touch you? Please?”
“No.”
Definitely not. First he makes me dinner, and now he wants to get touchy? At least I’ve cut off eye contact.
Right, and you’re doing an excellent job of staying impersonal. You just scraped your initials onto his stomach.
No, I didn—fuck. I did. Amid the cross-cross of marks along his body is a clear MT right above his navel.
A chill passes through me. The kind I got when a bullet whizzed past my head last month in Prague. Might as well stepin front of one if I’m dumb enough to try and play house in the middle of the job.
I cover the mark with my hand, telling myself it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll be gone by morning.
“Behave yourself.” I give a teasing lick up his length . Putting the lock pick aside, I push his legs apart and reach for the condoms and lube. There’s a flinch when I slide the drawer shut.
Honestly, I’m tempted to simply sit here and watch him. Let the rapid rise and fall of his chest get faster. Feel the shallow puffs of air from his mouth when anticipation and nerves mix with his arousal. Drink in the way he’s looking from side to side wildly, trying to determine what’s about to happen from sound alone.
I open the condom right next to his ear.
“Oh, thank God. You’re going to fuck me. Right? You’re going to fuck me again?”
“Mmm. Probably. You think you’ve earned it?”
His fingers dig into the mattress. “My hands are on the bed. The blindfold is on. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
“Told you not to say that again.” To make my point, I pinch the skin on his hip until he winces.
Whatever you want, I’ll do it. He’s talking about this. He’s talking about getting me to fuck him. I don’t like the way the words swirl in my chest.
What the hell am I going to do with this guy? What happens when we part ways and he says those words to the wrong person? I don’t claim to have many scruples, but I have a few. Thinking of someone else with him—someone who could do true harm—makes my throat tight.
