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For a moment, he stared at her, but he did as she’d asked. Walked around in front of the sofa and sat down, his long, thick, legs bending in front of him.
She pulled her top off and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
“What…”
“You’re mine,” she whispered.
He lifted a brow but said nothing.
She walked over to where he was sitting and straddled his muscled thighs. He still hadn’t moved. It was strange how he did that. Just watched and waited.
She liked it, though. Liked the way he wasn’t a hothead like she was.
His eyes met hers, soft and understanding. “I’m yours,” he told her. He slid his hands down her sides, the warmth of his palms enticing. Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on her collarbone.
She felt wrung out, yet more alive than she’d ever been. A cocktail of emotions spiked through her blood. Hurt, jealousy, the need to reclaim him.
And yeah, that was the strongest one of all.
Cupping his face with her palms, she felt the roughness of his beard tickle her skin. “I wanted to do this atChairs. March over and kiss you. Mark you.”
“I’m already marked by you.” He took her hand. Placed it on his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his shirt. “Feel it?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“It’s for you. It’s fucking racing for you.”
“I’m sorry I acted like an idiot,” she whispered.
“It’s not your fault. I should have said no. I should have told her to find her own way home.”
“You’re not that kind of guy.” She kissed his jaw, his cheek, his throat. She could feel the rumble of his breath through it.
“What kind of guy am I?”
“Mine. My kind of guy.”
“I like it when you say that.”
She stroked his jaw. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a half smile. “Probably too much.”
She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open to reveal his chest. Dipping her head, she kissed his clavicle, his pectoral, his nipple.
“Jesus.”
“Just let me do this,” she told him. “Let me kiss you everywhere.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
Her eyes flickered up to his. “Yes you do. We both do. We need this.” She wriggled her hips, slithering to the floor, her knees hitting the soft rug.
She reached for his zipper, pulling it down, reaching inside his shorts. He groaned as her fingers encircled him.
He was hard for her. She liked that. She pulled him out of his boxers, the thick length of him jutting out. “You don’t have to… Oh God.”
Sliding her lips over his tip, she enveloped him, her warm mouth welcoming him in, her tongue reminding him whose he was.
