Page 106 of I Wish You Were Mine

I reach up to push his shirt off. He rolls back his shoulders and lets the shirt fall to the ground at our feet. Then he’s kissing my shoulder before moving to the divot between my collarbones.

He kisses my breastbone. My heart punches forward in an effort to meet his mouth. No use telling it to stay put. It belongs to him.

Him, Katie, and the baby in my belly.

Tuck rolls his tongue over my nipple. My pussy lights up, need gathering in an urgent throb I feel everywhere.

I run my fingers through his hair and watch him love my body. Because that’s what it feels like when he shapes my waist with his hands and slowly sucks my nipple into his mouth. Maybe I’m projecting. But there’s a tenderness, a worshipfulness, to the way he’s touching me.

He arcs his thumbs over my stomach. They dip inside the waistband of my jeans and toy with my underwear.

Moving to the other nipple, he unbuttons my jeans and together with my panties pushes them down. I toe out of my boots and do a little wiggle to get everything to fall the rest of the way off.

Then I’m naked. Tuck’s mouth on my breast, my fingers in his hair.

My heart in his hands.

I put my hands on his face and draw his mouth up to mine. His hand roves over the slope of my hips, then dips lower. His fingers find my pubic hair, and I feel him parting me there as I kiss him.

“I know you’ve been feeling off lately.” He pulls back to look at me. “If you’re not up for it, I understand. But can I taste you here? Please?” He slides his middle finger into my slit.

Breathless, I nod.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, drawing my mouth up for one last kiss. “Lemme make you feel better.”

I’ve been so lost in Tuck’s taste, his touch, that I completely forgot we’re still in the kitchen. The fact only registers when he lifts me onto the countertop. The marble is cool on my backside, a shocking counterpoint to the heat that roils in my core when Tuck gets on his knees and hooks my leg over his shoulder.

The man eats pussy like he means it. He swipes his tongue down the length of me, front to back, a thorough, almost vicious caress that has me falling back on my hands. I bite back a cry when he licks my clit before sliding lower, his tongue curling into my entrance while his lips move over my slick flesh. He moves confidently, taking his time. Taking my clit between his teeth.

I see stars.

I rock my hips against his mouth, the pressure mounting inside me.

“I don’t”—I gasp when his hand finds my breast—“please don’t make me come before you’re inside me.”

His green eyes seem to glow when they meet mine. “You askin’ me to take you to the edge?”

I nod. “But no further. Please.”

That’s exactly what he does. He savors me, bringing mecloser and closer with every flick of his tongue. It’s heaven and hell being drawn in this way, drawn tight.

It’s when the hand on my breast moves to my pussy that I really lose it. I watch him pull back a little so he can gather my moisture on his fingertips. Then he reaches back up and smears it over one nipple, then the other, the scent of my arousal blooming between us.

I feel my orgasm bearing down on me. The weight of it, the pressure, it’s too much, and my hips surge forward, seeking one last touch to tip me over.

Tuck, though, reads me like a book. He draws back and climbs to his feet.

“But I’m dying,” I pant.

His gaze is locked on mine as he unbuckles his belt. “I know.”

“Help. Please.”

His erection tents his trousers. His lips and eyes glimmer. He’s half naked, his bare chest covered in untamed tufts of furry hair.

He is every inch the Viking in this moment.

“I always take care of you.” His fly makes a ripping noise as Tuck unzips it. “Tell me how ready you are for me.”

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