“What can I say? You look good in my shirt.”
I pulled it up over my head and tossed it beside him. “What about when I’m not wearing your shirt?”
His hands were on my chest instantly, cupping it and massaging. It didn’t take him long to see the closure was in the front, and with a single movement of his hand, it burst open, spilling out everything I had for his waiting eyes to see.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he confided. I made a sound in the back of my throat and moved a little closer, inviting his touch.
But he didn’t touch me.
“Tell me, Frankie,” he demanded.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you didn’t bring my heart back from the dead only to make it die all over again.”
And there it was. My choice. But I’d already made it. I made it a long time ago. It just wasn’t until today that I admitted it to myself.
I pushed the hair in his eyes up and away from his face. I wanted him to see me clearly. I wanted him to know without a doubt he was who I chose.
“I’m yours,” I whispered.
I didn’t know what it said about me that I could love someone like him. That I could love a killer. The worst parts of him were really bad. But looking at him now, vulnerability shining from the depths of his eyes and the feeling of him beneath me, I knew—I knewwithout a doubt—that even his darkest parts could never compare to his best ones.
His kiss started on my lips but didn’t stay there very long. His mouth slid down my neck and across my collarbone where he nipped along the line of it, making me laugh. Finally, I got to do what I’d been imagining since he took off that ugly sweater. I slid both my hands beneath the suspenders, running my hands along the thick muscles in his chest, and then gently pushed them over his shoulders, sliding them all the way down his arms.
His hands caught mine when they drifted over his, but I shook my head and pulled the hem of his button-down out of his pants. It joined the sweater on the floor.
This body was bigger than the one I knew before. This one had a few scars here and there marring its perfection. But to me it was those imperfections that made him perfect.
I traced along the outline of a circular-shaped scar on his chest. “What happened here?”
“I got it in the ring.”
I leaned down and kissed it and ran my tongue over its surface. He groaned and kissed me again. This time it was more demanding and not so slow. His arousal pressed between my legs, making me impatient, turning me into some sex-starved harlot, and I began to make small noises in the back of my throat.
His long fingers found the button of my jeans, releasing it, and then delved down into my waistband, cupping my butt. He tore his mouth from mine. “Your pants are in my way.”
I rocked against him one last time, smiling at his intake of breath, and then climbed off his lap. Before I could do anything, he swiped the jeans and my panties down my legs. The cool air brushed against my skin and I shivered slightly as I stood there completely bare before him. It was a good kind of shiver.
His green eyes heated as they took in my every curve and then his khakis were flying over the back of the couch, disappearing from sight. I thought he would pull me beneath him right there on the couch, but he didn’t. He settled back against the cushions just as he had been before and pulled me back into his lap.
His arousal jutted up between us, his hard length practically begging for my attention, and I was only too happy to oblige. His skin was smooth as satin and I wrapped my hand around him and slid upward, watching his eyes lose all focus. This was something I could definitely get used to—being in the driver’s seat, being the one in control. Olly was such a strong and willful man; he always seemed to be in control, to know exactly what he was doing. But right now, as I stroked him, he was completely under my spell.
Letting go, I rocked forward, bringing our bare chests together, skin touching skin, and teased his arousal with mine. He groaned when my slick warmth slid against him.
His hands splayed around my rib cage, lifting me so I was poised just above him, but I didn’t slide down. I didn’t connect our bodies just yet. Instead, I let the tip of him flirt with my opening as his mouth drew in one of my rock-hard nipples and rolled it around on his tongue. My head fell back at the sheer bliss—the sheer anticipation of being with him—and I moaned.
Never in a million years did I ever think anyone would ever make me feel like this.
When he released my nipple and placed a kiss between my breasts, I looked at him. I watched him as I slowly lowered myself onto him.
His fingers dug into my ribs to the point of almost being painful, but it was the kind of pain I would ask for again and again because there was nothing as sweet as welcoming him inside me.
When I was completely surrounding him, I began to move. At first my movements were slow, but they began to take on a more feverish insistence, and I moved faster and faster, searching for that release just out of reach.
I must have made a sound because he caught my face and looked into my eyes. “What’s the matter, love?”
“Can’t get close enough,” I whispered as I moved.
