Page 16 of Marked By Ink

Her eyes snap open even wider, even more gorgeously innocent, as though she wants the kiss, wants more but also needs to know why any of this is happening.

Stepping forward, I place my hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat blaze between us, the unstoppable flow of our bodies roaring, begging to be naked together. I’m sure I can feel it in her too.

But the rest, the future, the family, the insanity?

I doubt it.

And then she darts her hand up, grabbing onto the front of my shirt. There’s a moment as she leans in, and I can see the shyness flickering across her face, but then my sassy woman pushes it aside.

She stands on her tiptoes, and I lean down, unable to stop even if I know I have to.

Even if we weren’t on a timetable, kissing her in the street is a bad idea. I don’t know how I’d respond if somebody took pleasure from seeing my woman like this, all confident and sexy, rising above her nerves, her confusion.

Her body shifts against mine. My manhood is becoming rock-solid, the helm pushing against my underwear. She tastes too good. And the texture of her tongue, her warmth, her lips, and the starvation for each other are too compelling.

I’m addicted. I can’t stop.

The kiss ends when, a street over, a cat lets out a screeching yelp.

It’s another lucky interruption, reminding me of the stakes, of how dangerous this is.

The fact Ineedreminding of the mission is a problem. I never have before.

I step away, promising myself I’ll keep my distance this time.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I snap. “It’s just we have to go. Now. Is there anything important in your car?”

She raises her hand and softly touches her lips as though she’s confirming we really did just kiss.

“In my car?” She shakes her head. “No, wait a second. You just…you can’t grab me,kissme, and then…Have you got a gun?”

Her words come quickly as if her mouth is struggling to catch up to the speed of her thoughts. She stares at me with a fierce expression, making my heart thunder, the future splitting open and showing me all the times she’ll look at me like that.

Or our kids, when they’ve misbehaved, and it’s time for their mother to put on her stern face.

“Yes,” I tell her flatly.

“Why?” she asks.

I take a step forward but keep more distance than last time.

Otherwise, I know I’ll kiss her again, lose control, maybe slide my hand up her tempting thigh next time, squeeze onto her gorgeous fullness.

“I can’t explain here, but somebody’s trying to kill you.” Before she can speak, I go on, “I know you have questions. I’ll answer as many as I can in the car. But we need to leave, Freya. Now.”

She gasps as I take her arm, not holding her roughly, but not gently, either. Suddenly, I feel like an ass for hanging around here so long, even if it’s hours until midnight.

It doesn’t matter. Even if there’s a one percent chance Mr. Red goes back on his deal, we still need to go.

I lead her away from her car toward mine, my hand never leaving her arm.

I can feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her shirt. It’s difficult not to slide my hand across to her breasts, slip down her shirt and massage her, bring her to orgasm from playing with her sensitive nipples, making her fuckingcream….

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I pause and stare down at her, struggling to maintain control.

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