Page 143 of The Art of Ruin

Casey sits up slightly and her hands slide slowly up my chest until they settle at the back of my neck. “You’re not,” she whispers. Then she kisses me again.

Any remaining control I had dies immediately.

I push her gently back against the mattress, my hands braced on either side of her as I kiss her harder, deeper, unable to get enough of her now that I finally have permission to stop holding myself back.

The feel of her beneath me is overwhelming.

Soft silk and warm skin against the hard roughness of my body is sexy as fuck. But it’s the quiet sounds she makes every time my mouth moves against hers that drive me completely out of my mind.

My hands slide to the zipper at the back of her dress, fingers pausing briefly against the warm skin exposed there before I drag it down slowly.

Casey’s breath catches the second the tension in the silk loosens.

I kiss her again while I push the fabric from her shoulders inch by inch, taking my time now despite the hunger tearing through me because I need to see her properly. Need to feel every little reaction beneath my hands.

The dark green silk slips lower with every touch, pooling gradually around her waist while my mouth traces along newly bared skin, her collarbone, the curve where her shoulder meets her neck, the soft rise and fall of her breathing turning uneven beneath my hands.

“Beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, the word escaping rougher than intended.

Her fingers tighten slightly in my hair at the sound of it.

I guide the dress the rest of the way down slowly, watching her shiver as the silk finally slides from her body and falls soundlessly to the floor beside the bed.

And for a second, I just look at her.

Like I’m trying to commit every inch of her to memory before I completely lose my mind. Her breasts are full, her nipples beaded as I dip my head and pull one of the tight buds into my mouth. Her back arches, pushing herself against my mouth and I groan. Fuck, I could spend hours worshiping her tits alone.

“You’re a fucking goddess. These tits are perfection. You are perfection.”

My hand slides beneath her thigh instinctively, pulling her leg over my hip. My cock grazes against her pussy through my pants, while her hands move impatiently over my shoulders, my chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt like she can’t stand the barrier of clothing between us anymore either.

Watching her unravel ignites something dangerously possessive in me.

Knowing she wants this as badly as I do is such a fucking turn-on.

“Easy,” I murmur roughly against her mouth, catching her wrists and pinning them above her head so I can finish opening my shirt properly before she tears it clean off me.

She looks entirely unapologetic about the possibility as she lies naked and needy on my bed. “You’re taking too long.”

A laugh escapes me despite the tension wound tight through every inch of my body. “You’ve become very demanding all of a sudden.”

“You started it by showing me what I’ve been missing.”

The thought makes me smile. I love that I gave her something she felt she was missing. It makes me want to beat my chest and shout it from the rooftops.

I shrug the shirt from my shoulders before lowering my mouth back to hers immediately, swallowing the small sound she makes as my bare skin brushes against hers for the first time tonight.

Fuck.

I think I could spend the rest of my life chasing the sounds she makes for me.

My hands move slowly now, despite the hunger clawing through me, tracing over her waist, her hips, every inch of skin I uncover like I’m trying to learn her by touch alone.

She shivers beneath my hands when I drag my mouth down her throat.

“Adriano—”

The warning and want tangled together in my name nearly ruins me. “I know,” I say against her skin, though I have absolutely no idea what either of us is supposed to do with this level of wanting anymore.