Page 192 of Remy

I can’t get enough.

Not of the kiss. Not of his touch. Not of him.

I clench my thighs tighter around him as he walks us toward the Escalade, his men making rustling noises and murmuring in the distance.

“You’re safe.” He speaks against my lips. “I’ve got you.”

“I was worried.” I glide my fingers into his hair. “I heard the gunshot and?—”

His tongue rakes over mine, deepening the kiss, increasing the relief.

I match him stroke for stroke, raking my fingers through his hair, tightening my hold around him.

But I still need more.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

He takes us to the passenger side of his car, pressing me back against the cool metal of the door. “There’s only one part of me that’s aching, and it’s got nothing to do with the Irish.”

I lean into the Escalade and tilt my pelvis against him with a groan.

I can feel the length of where he aches. So incredibly hard and big beneath his pants.

He grinds into me with a moan, the sound of his need undoing me.

“You should’ve stayed in the car,” he mutters into my mouth.

“I couldn’t see you.” I inch my head back to meet his gaze, but he shifts his mouth to my cheek, starting a trail of heated kisses toward my neck. “I didn’t know what to think.”

Instead of leaning down, he grabs my waist, hitching me higher against the side of the car so his lips can continue the heavenly path lower, over my collarbone, across my sternum.

My thighs burn with the tight grip around him. I didn’t know if we’d ever get here again. Heated and panting. But this is a million times hotter than my daydreams.

He’s hungered and rabid. All hard muscle, hummed groans, and possessive hands, his kisses scorching, his touch electric.

He finds the small scar on my chest, licking, nipping. “You’re going to have to stop me, Ollie. I can’t do it on my own.”

I moan at the tingles invading my body. “Never.”

He hitches me higher, his face coming in line with the top of my bodice. I straddle his ribs as he tugs at the neckline of my dress, his heavy body holding me in place.

He bends the boning, exposing my naked breasts, palming them gently.

“Fuck.” He stares at me like I’m a wonder of the world. “No bra.”

“I didn’t have one appropriate for the dress.”

“And for that I’m thankful.” The words barely reach my ears before his mouth is back on me, those pleasuring lips scorching a trail from my cleavage to my nipple, sucking the tightened flesh until it burns.

I cry out, my hips bucking into him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between licks. “I’ve dreamed of this. I haven’t stopped.”

“Me, too.” I’m already incredibly wet and achy. I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough.

“Stop me, Ollie.” He releases my bodice and hitches me higher, his face in line with my stomach, then my abdomen, his nose nuzzling along the fabric as if he’s entranced.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

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