Page 46 of The Ruthless Note

“Dammit, Cadey.” Dutch lifts his head and gives me a look so fraught with lust, it’s almost nightmarish. “Dammit.”

“Don’t stop.” I blink rapidly, sucking in another blessed breath.

Dutch groans.

I arch against his hard chest, and he moves in like a storm. Wildly, he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then he draws a line of stinging-sweet kisses down my neck, stopping at my throat, sucking the heat out of my crazily fluttering pulse.

I turn my face to his and his tongue plunges into my mouth, nearly ripping a scream from my soul.

I’m a shivering mess of wicked delight as he obsessively nips, sucks, and caresses my lips until they tingle.

“Dutch,” I whimper under him.

Confusing.

Disarming.

I hate him with every breath, but I need him closer with every bone in my body.

My hands slide over his pants. I freeze for a second, stunned and a little overwhelmed.

Holy crap.

The piano makes garbled, protesting sounds as Dutch drags my legs toward him so I’m tipping back on the key bed. The notes sustain, crying out in pain as my elbows balance on the black and white keys.

My eyes pop. My heart pounds. And my entire body lights up with fire when he slides his hands up my skirt and hooks his fingers in my panties.

I look up at him. Dutch freaking Cross. This frightening, mass of chaos and desire looming over me. And I feel… insane.

My pulse doubles.

I wait on pins and needles, ready for him to unleash the white-hot fire trapped in my body, ready to feel the kind of heat that could eradicate the sun.

But he stops suddenly.

I blink, my hands restless over his chest, my body tuned like a piano string that’s about to pop.

“Dammit,” he says again, more angrily this time. He squeezes his eyes closed, shakes his head, digs his fingers so hard into my thighs they’ll leave indents.

Instinct makes me hesitate.

But I don’t want this to end yet.

The moment my pulse returns to normal, it’ll be an embarrassing mistake. A line crossed between enemies. A painful reminder of how foolish I become when I’m caught in his spell.

I lean up, wrap my fingers around Dutch’s shirt collar and drag him down to me. His body sinks against mine, his weight crushing me into the piano.

I twist my hips, seeking out his hand. His knuckles, still under my skirt, brush against a sensitive bundle of nerves. That light graze alone is enough to send an earthquake rocking through my body.

I moan and it draws him in again. His mouth smothers mine as he explores me through my underwear and I jerk on the keyboard, beating another distressed chord. The piano twines with the sound of my low, tortured gasps creating a sensual, earthy harmony that screams through the empty room.

I’m a thunder-snap of need, boiling want, and throbbing chaos. Just feeling him through my clothes isn’t enough any more.

I ease back and reach down to unsnap his jeans when Dutch goes still. Something shifts in the air and I watch a cold, apathetic emotion rip through his eyes. It’s like watching a monster turn into something much worse.

His hand retreats from under my skirt like I’m poison.

“Get out of my sight,” he snarls.

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