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“Don’t. You’re starting to sound like some conspiracy crank, you know that?” she bites off. “Everything comes back to the Arrendells. Everything is their fault. Just what did they do to you, mister? What the hell did they—”
They slaughtered my sister! I want to roar, but what comes out isn’t that.
What comes out instead is impulse, torn emotion, blood boiling frustration, and—fuck.
Yes, sheer desire.
I give in to the urge to make that sharp, biting mouth of hers stop for just one minute.
That’s why I grab her.
That’s why I pull her in.
That’s why I kiss Miss New York till she turns into a stunned, whimpering icicle, and then slowly melts in my arms.
11
Red Hot (Delilah)
My life has been one big ball of confusion ever since I set foot in this weird little town.
But there’s nothing on Earth more bewildering than Lucas effing Graves pulling me into the hard slab of his body, tilting my chin, and crushing his mouth down on mine like the rest of his life depends on kissing me breathless.
Oh. My. God.
Two seconds ago, I was one sharp word away from straight-up slugging him in the face, even if he has an iron jaw that would break my fist.
Now, I’m so—
I don’t even know.
I can’t think.
I can’t wonder.
I can’t count the myriad ways my new life in Redhaven explodes in the delicious sting of his teeth.
He won’t let me do anything but feel.
And what I feel most is Lucas in all his bossy, infuriating glory.
His lips scorch me from the inside out until I’m ash from my fingers to the tips of my toes.
I just clutch at his arms, hanging off him in midair, pressing so, so hard to him as my mouth goes magnetic against my will.
I’m supposed to hate this man.
But why does he kiss like that?
Resistance? Ha.
It’s so pathetically futile my body betrays me in a moan.
His lips are so hot, so firm, and God—Lucas may talk slow, but he moves like lightning, all swift sizzle and a hint of growling thunder.
All man, claiming and teasing and making me shiver so deeply as his stubble rubs my mouth, my skin, all of me raw.
His kiss caresses with a dominating promise that leaves me boneless.
Boneless, tingling, and fighting back.
When he bites me, his teeth dipping firmly into my bottom lip, I give back as good as I get.
And it makes him groan like the beast he is.
His hold on me shifts until his hands slide down to the small of my back, burning hot and dragging me in, jerking me hard against the hard, honed machine of his body.
Then he delves into me.
His tongue plunges into my mouth.
I’m blinded from the heat, arching with a loud gasp, feeling like he’s just thrust his devious tongue between my thighs.
It’s beyond sinful.
And my knees clamp together like they can keep that feeling inside me—but it won’t hold when it’s just as disobedient as the rest of me.
Liquid fire races through me and electrifies every inch of my skin.
Napalm fills my veins.
Every inch of my skin feels incandescent, awakened by this man who messes me up in all the myriad ways.
My knees go so weak the longer we kiss.
I cling to him as his growl vibrates through me.
God, I can’t even stand without him supporting me.
My fingers claw his arms and those broad hands keep me pinned so close.
The rock-hard muscle under his uniform makes a lie of the neat, crisp shirt. The promise of the brute behind the stern gentleman.
Rough sensations come in ruthless waves like the ocean tide slapping the shore.
And those punishing waves are all Lucas Graves.
“New York, fuck,” he grinds out when he breaks away for breath.
I moan a reply, already too worn for words.
Too awestruck.
How coarse his fingers are, scraping through my thin shirt.
His heat—God, his heat—it soaks me until I melt against him, my breasts tingling against his chest, peaking my nipples.
The hardness between his thighs, pushing against me with a needy insistence, dragging against my stomach and my hips.
I want it.
I want him.
And I’m utterly shameless when I move, twining my tongue with his when he kisses me more greedily than ever.
I push my fingers against his shirt and skim down his chest.
I’m rewarded with the taste of more hot desire growling up his throat, filling me with fire in every kiss.
We’re rampant.
Unthinking.
Explosive.
There’s no flipping stopping now, not before I find the waist of his slacks, his belt. My fingers work clumsily on the buckle.
More thunder booms up his throat as the backs of my knuckles brush his cock through the material.
He grinds into my fingers, showing me the power in his hips.
“Delilah,” he rasps against my mouth, fierce and animalistic and needy.
“Yes,” I whisper, dragging his belt buckle open.
I don’t know what the hell is happening right now, this imminent chaos.
I just know this feeling, right here, is the one thing I didn’t know I’ve been looking for.
