Page 29 of Sasha’s Secret

“Sweet. Baby. Jesus.”

Not exactly the reaction he’d expected. “Is that good or bad?”

Sasha’s immediate response wasn’t reassuring. “Neither.” Her gaze met his. “It’s… I used to think…” She pursed her lips and frowned. “I normally have more control over my words than this. Let me put it this way… No woman in her right mind would complain about perfection.”

She leaned into him once more. This time, she put one arm around his waist, while the other hand cradled the side of his head and coaxed him into bending so she could kiss him. This time, her lips lingered. This time, at the butterfly-light touch of her tongue, he parted his lips to let her in.

Suddenly aroused beyond belief, Rocco was only distantly aware of the discomfort of his cock pushing against the zipper on his pants. Sasha’s honeyed mouth was an elemental force, whipping up a firestorm of desire and need. When they broke contact, body trembling, she collapsed against him.

“Holy cats,” she whispered. “I never knew kissing could be so good. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of kissing you.”

So, it was mutual. Good to know. “Likewise,” he murmured.

“May I ask you something?”

Now he was intrigued. “Ask me anything you like.”

Her gaze was soft and gentle when it met his. “Has anyone ever told you you should be an artist’s model?”

He’d have laughed, but for the fact she asked the question without any trace of humor. She deserved a more respectful response. “No. Who’d want to paint this, anyway?”

“This” was a body that had seen active service on too many black ops missions to count. He was one of the lucky ones—he’d never suffered any serious, life-changing injuries, but his body bore visible traces of armed conflict.

“Any artist with any sense. You’re beautiful.”

* * *

How could any woman look at him and not see beauty?

Perfection as a concept could be defined a million different ways. For a lot of people, Rocco wouldn’t be it, but for Sasha, she could think of nothing more flawless than the man standing before her, from his unruly black hair all the way down to his gleaming black shoes.

If she couldn’t get enough of kissing him, then the same applied to touching him. The light covering of chest hair thrilled her. So different from the men she’d dated who’d mistakenly thought manscaping made them more attractive. Rocco was natural, all the way down to the darker arrow on his lower abdomen, pointing the way to the treasure awaiting her beneath the pants that still preserved his modesty.

Although, as a former soldier, it was likely all traces of modesty had deserted him a long time ago, if her past dealings with the military were any indication.

“If you want to talk about beautiful, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

Her cheeks warmed with an unexpected blush and she looked down, fixing her focus on his washboard abs. Rocco wasn’t the first man to have told her that, but he was the first to have said it with complete sincerity when she was literally a hot mess. What would it be like if her fantasy turned into reality, and from now on, he were the only man to say it, too?

Sasha wriggled a little closer to the edge of the counter—and a little closer to Rocco, so she could frame his face with her hands. While a smooth chest wasn’t to her taste, she usually preferred a clean-shaven lover when it came to facial hair. The slight rasp of dark stubble over her palms was electrifyingly erotic. She loved touching him.

Her right thumb caressed the fullness of his lower lip. “Is it bad that I want you to kiss me again?”

“No—but I want to do more to you than that.”

He swayed toward her, reinforcing the message when his thick, rock-hard cock pressed snugly against her, in spite of the clothing that separated them. One arm encircled her waist, while his free hand lifted her thigh and drew her into even more intimate contact with his groin. The pressure, the sensation, was amazing. A playful touch or two of his lips to her mouth and cheeks, and then he went into full attack mode, devouring her with his kisses.

Pure lust consumed her from the inside out. A fierce, intense craving to feel Rocco in every cell of her being engulfed her. Overwhelmed, she broke away, barely long enough to catch her breath before Rocco yanked her back, mashing her breasts against his chest. The abrasion from the crisp hair turned her tormented nipples into even tighter buds, a reaction that instantly dialed her level of arousal up to eleven. She couldn’t get enough of him—as he kissed and nibbled the side of her neck, one hand roamed freely over his back while the other, curved around the back of his head, clutched at the cool silk strands of his hair. Almost delirious and barely able to think straight, she gave a soft moan and bit lightly on his earlobe.

Oh God, I want you inside me.

“I will be.”

The ragged promise shocked her back into some semblance of awareness. Had she truly said those words aloud or had he read her mind? Either way, she didn't really care. Then she remembered why they were in the bathroom—it wasn’t to make out on the counter. “Shower.”

“Not yet.”

Strong hands bracketed her waist and guided her back from the edge of the counter. Sasha whimpered, and then shrieked when her shoulder blades made contact with the cool tiles on the wall behind her, but her attention was swiftly diverted to Rocco’s hands grasping her ankles.