Page 77 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Mm. You’re not back yet, are you? Have you eaten?”

I honestly can’t remember. I like feeling his hands, though. The one in my hair and the one on my arm. Stroking and steady. I hear his heart. Pounding. I’m so fucking out of it.

“What’d you do to me?” I murmur.

“What you needed, I hope.”

I’ll have to think about that later.

“Try to appreciate the way you feel right now, Christian,” he says. “Don’t try to come back too soon.”

“Okay,” I whisper, nestling my head against him, trying to gather more of his warmth into me.

At some point the music changes to something less dramatic, more contemporary. I think it’s old Coldplay, which is exactly what I would expect Gibson to listen to, and it makes me smile.

I shift toward him, wanting to get some pressure off my hip. My top leg slots between his, the way it did in Rome, and he readjusts, sliding down to lie beside me rather than propped against the headboard. An ache spreads through my backside with all the movement, and I groan softly.

“More water?” he asks.

“Whatever you think.”

“Are you getting sore?”

“A little.”

“Finish this, then.”

I drink the rest of the water and lie back down, still half on top of him. “You don’t need to be anywhere do you?”

“I’m all yours,” he says.

I lift my head, and our eyes meet. He looks as exhausted as I feel. I press my lips gently to his. He makes a quiet sound and chases my mouth as I pull away. It’s irresistible, so of course, I kiss him again.

Our mouths open slowly, taking a long, lingering taste of each other. His face is clean. His breath is minty. His lips are soft and luscious—his tongue wet and lazy.

It’s different than we’ve kissed before, and my dick likes it too much. I roll my crotch against his thigh, and he grabs hold of my face, catching it in his grasp and deepening the kiss for a long moment before pulling away.

“Are you always so affectionate?” he asks.

I shake my head, hoping he won’t be able to resist doing it again, either. Kissing him feels so fucking good. So wildly unpredictable. I never know what I’m going to get, and that makes it a risk every time.

“Dangerous,” he whispers.

“I’d be easy to take advantage of right now,” I tell him.

His eyes flash darkly. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“You want to know what it’s like?”

“What what’s like?”

I roll my body—my cock—against his leg again. His eyes widen. “Really?”

I close my eyes and press my open mouth to his again, shamelessly humping his leg and silently begging for more.

23

GIBSON

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