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I close my eyes, take a steadying breath, then hold his stare. “Your job. Your dad.”
“Fuck my job.” A hand clutches my hip and draws me impossibly closer. “Fuck it all.” His other hand skims up the opposite hip, then dances along the hem of my tank top, his fingertips caressing my skin.
I open my mouth, ready to counter him. But before I get a word out, his mouth crashes down on mine. Dumbstruck, I freeze.
Warm lips brush mine as his arms circle my waist and pin me to him. His tongue darts out, licks the seam of my lips, and rouses me from my stupor.
After one erratic beat of my heart, I kiss him back. Meet his fervor with my own hunger. Lick and taste and devour him as I claw at his shirt. Nip at his bottom lip. Fist the cotton of his tee and crush the length of my body to his.
He licks my top lip before he breaks the kiss long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. Then his lips are back on mine, my face framed by his hands. A moan spills from his mouth into mine as he steps back, taking me with him. We jolt as his legs hit the bed, his brutal kiss softening.
Needing to touch more of him, my knuckles graze the light dusting of hair on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, and he hisses. That single break in his control sparks a fire in my chest. Gifts me a power over him no one else wields.
But I don’t want to overpower Travis. When it comes to this, us—whatever we are—I want an equal. Someone willing to go toe to toe with me in life and love and all things in between. I want hunger and passion and desperation. But not at the expense of losing who he is at his core.
With all his faults, Travis Emerson is a good man, and I want him as he is.
I rest my forehead on his and dip my fingers beneath the elastic of his briefs, relishing the way his entire body shudders under my touch. Eyes rolling closed, he audibly swallows. Our ragged breaths mingle as I memorize the lines of his body. The dips and curves and ridges of lean, hard muscle. The twitch of his abdomen each time my fingers dance over his happy trail, then dip lower.
“Fuck, sunshine.” His shaky breath coats my lips as his fingers in my hair curl tighter, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “I’m dying.”
“Take off my shirt, Travis,” I whisper, bolder than I feel.
Amber eyes clash with my stormy irises. “You’re sure?”
My fingers trail up his midline and he shivers, his jaw going slack. I nod. “Yes.” I lean in and lick his lips. “Need to feel you.” My fingers drift down, down, down and pop the button on his jeans. “All of you.”
My words are a switch in his brain flipping on.
Before my next breath, my tank top is ripped from my body and flying across the room. Then his mouth is on mine again, bruising my lips with gloriously punishing kisses. The fire in my chest moments ago burns hotter, builds, expands. Wildfire licks my skin, singes my veins, scorches my bones, forever brands my soul.
And goddamn, I want more.Needmore.
Of his fevered skin pressed to mine.
Of his frenzied kisses stealing my breaths.
Of his brutal fingers kneading my waist, my hips, my ass.
Of him.
Just him.
Fingers in the elastic of his briefs, I shove them down with his jeans. He kicks them away as he kisses and nips a trail along my jaw to my ear and slowly, ever so slowly, down the column of my neck. I tip my head back and gasp at the delicious buzz his lips and teeth and tongue leave in their wake.
Calloused fingers knead their way up, up, up until he palms my breasts. One unrestrained kiss after another, he drifts down my body. Tastes my skin. Licks a path to my nipple, circles the tight peak with the tip of his tongue, then devours it with unrivaled hunger.
“Travis…” Breathy, I invoke him like a god.
A yelp rings through the air as teeth pierce my nipple. I feel more than see the corners of his mouth curve up. My grip on his hips tightens, my nails digging into his flesh. On a hiss, he releases my nipple.
“Fuck, sunshine.”
Before a witty comeback leaves my lips, his mouth clamps down on my other nipple. Sucking and ravishing and bruising. Arching my back, I give him more. Silently beg him to punish my body with his.
A muted pop echoes through the room a beat before a thud. Dropping my chin, I gape at the sight of him on his knees. Wild eyes hold mine as his hands skim up my thighs, over the curve of my hips, and stop at the waistband of my pajama pants.
A silent request for permission lingers in the air as his honey-eyed stare holds me captive.
