Page 69 of Little Blue

“I haven’t seen you all morning.” He doesn’t release me, but he has stopped pressing me into the counter. His hands pull me tighter into his front, as though he can’t get me close enough to settle whatever hunger that has driven him to me in the first place. “I miss you.”

My heart begins to race.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Silly, stupid, naive heart.

“I’m learning to bake.”

“I see that.” His hand on my belly begins to move up the length of my torso, between my breasts, up the length of my throat to cup my jaw. Firmly, but with a tenderness that strokes at my heart, he tips my head until he has access to my mouth. Then he claims it in a kiss that feels not quite as feral as the others. It’s slow burn, and surprisingly affectionate.

Don’t let him in, Irelynn.

His lips tease at mine for long minutes, the tip of his tongue sliding against the crease of my lips. Inside my chest, my heart is rioting. Butterflies flutter in my belly and a wick ignites, a hot flame flickering in my core.

Don’t let him in.

The hand on my belly clenches the material of my thin sweater into a tight fist. He presses me deeper into him, so tightly against the towering hulk of him that I think I can feel the thunder of his dark heart inside his chest.

Don’t let him in.

My knees feel weak. I sway in his hold, my mind spinning. He licks at my lips.

“Let me in.” A plea echoes his command.

My body trembles against his. He is an impossibly hard man, but his mouth is so soft and warm. It’s trickery of the most wicked kind, because with every sweep of his lips against mine, he sways my heart further and further from the logic of my mind.

This isn’t right. Don’t let him in.

I can’t let him in…

“Let me taste you.” He moves his hand until his big palm cradles the side of my face, his thumb on my chin, the tip hooking my bottom lip a moment before he nips it gently.

My core erupts.

I whimper.

He growls. It’s a feral sound.

I gasp.

He invades.

The sweep of his tongue against mine ignites every inch of me in heat, and yet I shiver. Unable to help myself, I rock back against him. Now that I’ve lost the plot and opened up to him—let him inside—I kiss him with fervor. Need blooms inside me. My body quakes with desire, and I’ve entirely forgotten about the baking on the counter as Ilya spins me in his arms, his hands finding my hips a moment before he lifts me onto the counter. He hooks me around the waist and tugs me to the edge of the counter before spreading my legs wide and stepping into me.

My heart lurches as the scent of him overpowers me. Then his mouth is on mine again.

My mind is fraying, my thoughts spiraling. But I come to my senses when I feel his big hand slip under the fabric of my shirt to graze skin.

Oh God, what am I doing?

Catching his wrists, I tug his hands from under my shirt as I tear my mouth from his. I’m breathing hard, my heart an unsteady drum beat in my chest.

When my eyes lift to his face, I’m struck by the look of primal possession I see.

“I don’t want this.”

“You’re lying.”

“No—”

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