Page 30 of Inarticulate

She’d never desired a man so much it hurt. But there was pain now, an ache low in her belly she couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t mere arousal or the hunger of a starved libido. It was emotional and physical. She just didn’t understand why or how. Keenan had her wrapped around his finger and it hadn’t even taken a syllable.

He pulled back and left her gasping for air. Her arms fell to her sides and her heart fell with them. He stared back at her, his smile nowhere to be seen. There was no warmth in his features. Only ferocity. Pure lust.

She didn’t want to break the silence. Her mouth wouldn’t work even if she wanted it to. If he couldn’t speak, neither would she, but the pressure to fill the void irked her. She never knew how much she relied on words to self-soothe until she met Keenan. They eased discomfort and dissolved nerves.

Now there was only instinct and intuition.

He held her focus as he shucked his jacket and threw it on the end of the bed. She wasn’t going to swallow. Nope. No matter how dry her throat or how wet her pussy, she refused to give him any more power. He already had enough. She was weak—her knees, her arms, her restraint.

Her fingers twitched, wishing he would hurry as he grasped the top of his shirt and manipulated the first button through the hole. One by one, he exposed more skin to her periphery, yet she fought not to break his gaze. He was the first to look at her with such raw savagery; he could very well be the last. Each second of the connection was like a drug she wished to save for later. She was hoarding his passion, memorizing it, storing it in a safe place at the back of her mind to bring out whenever the need arose.

Her palms itched to touch him, and instead of listening to the meek voice inside telling her to be careful, she reached out and made contact. Her skin collided with muscle and the fine dusting of coarse hair on his pecs and still, their eyes danced.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

Wouldn’t stop.

Refused.

She slid her hands higher and guided the shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, to his wrists and let it drop to the floor. Swallow after swallow, she tried to soothe the dryness of her throat, but nothing in her body wanted to comply with her demands. Everything inside her was attuned to his frequency.

He grabbed her hips and a breath shuddered from her lips as he guided her backward to sit on the small desk. Large hands gripped the tie of her robe, the soft tug, tug, tug of the knot coming undone, along with her control. Her heart was fluttering in her throat. Her stomach had become an Olympic rhythmic gymnast.

Would she hold enough appeal to satisfy his desire? Would she be enough?

The forefront of her mind told her his opinion didn’t matter. He could love her body or strut his sexy ass to the door. But in the back of her thoughts was a constant drone of unease. A man this alluring, this intoxicating, wouldn’t be affected by mediocrity.

She wanted to impress him. To make his eyes narrow in lust or widen in appreciation. She needed that hit of undiluted emotion that washed away the need for words. She needed to see the fascination he couldn’t announce and feel the praise in his touch.

The front of the material separated, the trim settling on the inside of her breasts. She remained still as Keenan stole his focus from her eyes and tracked his full attention down her body. Her skin tingled under his scrutiny, from her lips to her throat, her sternum to her stomach, all the way to the trimmed patch of curls at the apex of her thighs.

His nostrils flared. His fingers twitched at his sides. She sucked in a breath, deep and empowering. Her nervousness vanished. How could she hold on to doubt when he looked at her with such hunger? With one look,thatlook, he transformed her into a supermodel. She was flawless beneath his appraisal.

She gripped the edge of the desk, her movements spreading the material further, and let him look his fill.

His attention backtracked, from her pussy, to her belly button, her sternum. Every inch made her heart rate increase.

He met her gaze, briefly, so briefly, before he decimated the space between them in one step and took her mouth with his own. She didn’t have time to think, to gasp. He was all over her, one arm sliding around her naked waist, his other hand circling the back of her neck.

This kiss was the evil twin to its predecessor.Thiskiss was rough and punishing, vicious and feral. Their tongues clashed in harsh strokes, their teeth clinked. She scrambled for his shoulders and tugged him as she dug her fingers into his skin.

He growled, a deep rumble of sound that emanated from his throat. It was beyond sexy. It was animalistic. Hedonistic.

It made her stop. Think. Reevaluate.

“You can growl?” She pushed at his chest, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of the heady vibration. She’d heard that sound from him before, but she couldn’t ignore it now. It was too wondrous.

“That was sexy as hell.” She was panting, trying to calm her breathing when he seemed to be entirely under control.

His gaze became guarded. His pleasure fading.

“I mean it.”

He ignored the compliment like it was a thinly veiled criticism and leaned into her, this time taking his lips to her neck. She had no time to ponder. He nipped along her carotid and gifted her with his sound again. The deep rumble sank into her chest and made every rib tingle. She arched her neck and fought for control.

She couldn’t wait to have more of him. The thought wasn’t whimsy or wishful thinking. Shecould notwait to have more of him. It was an impossibility.

“I’m done with waiting,” she whispered and cascaded her hands from his shoulders, down his chest, over his muscled stomach, to the waistband of his jeans.

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