Page 95 of Ready For His Rule

Finally, with their breaths still merged and their foreheads locked, he rasped, “Christ, ku’uipo. How you honor me. Humble me.”

She brought her hands forward, spreading them to the sides of his face. “And now, let me help you.”

He warmed both her palms with kisses before dipping back in, coating her in the chocolate perfection of his stare. “You already have.”

Her eyes slipped shut for a moment. The words meant so much, and she took the time to make sure they were stitched into the permanent fabric of her heart. “Not nearly as much as you’ve helped me.”

“Pfffft.”

“Truth!” She opened her eyes and whacked him on the shoulder, secretly glad to welcome his cocky bastard side back. While she was moved, in ways she’d only started to fathom, by him stepping from the basement then completely lowering his shields, she also knew that wasn’t the way he preferred “getting naked”. It was also much easier to drawl out her follow-up. “You think I ever would’ve gotten used to ‘Madame President’ without you?”

When one of his brows leapt, it took her libido right along with it. The smolder of his half-smirk ensured the bundle went up in flames too. Holy shit, the man was good at mashing discipline and reward into the same hot look.

“Not a bad point at all, ma’am.” He added the other half of his mouth to the grin, knowing damn well how his full smile affected her. Enflamed her. Know-it-all bastard. Gorgeous warrior.

Sure enough, she had to fight past the million butterflies in her belly and the flying fire in her blood just to shove at him again. “Yeah, well…find a way to get me used to the whole public speaking thing, and I’ll tell Luke to let you win a few tennis matches.”

His gaze flared. “You do like seducing me.”

“What?” She flattened a hand to the base of her neck. “Little moi?”

He emitted a sultry hum as his gaze drifted once more to her mouth. “Oui, petite chat. Toi.”

Dammit. Not the best time to forget that, as the Spec Ops stud he was, he knew how to say “kitten” in at least ten different languages—and sound that gravelly, gorgeously sexy in all of them.

Regardless, she managed to feign haughty sneer and a prissy pout. “I am a woman of integrity, John Franzen.”

“Pffft.”

“I beg your pardon? Ahhh!”

Her saucy act went the way of her T-shirt, deftly whipped off by the man—at the same time he swept them both down to the floor. Before Tracy could process the surprise of that, the rogue filled the space over her, his mouth circling the erect areola of one newly naked breast. At once, she was a writhing mess. The rasp of his stubble across her sensitive nub…holy hell, so good, but so much…an intensity doubled, as he attended the other nipple with masterful pinches and tugs. Instantly, her whole body writhed, only to be stilled as he swept his hand down, palming her hot mound. A gasp finally broke free when his fingers went to work, circling between her wet folds, sliding across her most sensitive button of arousal.

“Integrity?” he murmured between wet, languorous kisses into the valley between her breasts. “At the moment, ku’uipo, I’m not interested in your fucking integrity.”

He made sure she thanked God for that at once.

Then again.

And again.

And again…

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