Page 61 of Claiming Atlas
She makes me miss things I haven’t thought of in years.
Things I wanted to forget.
My heart pinches and my hands still. Then she slowly starts to slide her lips from my ear to my mouth and when her tongue slides across my bottom lip, it’s all I can do not to groan into her mouth. She tastes even sweeter than she smells.
Conversation continues around us as more of Las Vegas’ elite grow comfortable in the darkness. They discuss the flavors of their cocktails, the way their other senses have heightened at the loss of sight, what a unique evening this is, how wonderful the aerialists were, especially Kincaid Summers...
Blah. Blah. Blah.
They jabber on, unaware of what the two of us are doing right in front of them.
They hold cocktails and conversations; I hold an ass worthy of a fucking monument.
But they’re right about one thing: my senses have stepped forward to work overtime while my sight takes a back seat. And I’ve never felt, smelled, or tasted anything—or anyone—quite as fuckingenjoyableas this woman in my lap.
They can talk about how amazing Kincaid Summers is all night long.
But I’m over here with the real thing.
And I’ve just broken the third rule with her, because I’m right in the middle of my second serving.
What the fuck has Kayla done to me?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kayla
His hands travel all over my skin, reintroducing those callused fingers to the most delicate places on my body. My belly, my breasts, the soft skin of my inner thighs... He runs his hands up my back and grips both shoulders, holding me tighter to him as his tongue invades my mouth.
I told him not to touch me, but I did so specifically because Atlas doesn’t follow rules.
It might be my favorite thing about him.
His penis twitches against me, hardening as we—
Wait. That might be my favorite thing about him.
