Page 41 of It Takes a Thief
“Well?” she asks breathlessly.
“Not as sweet as you taste,” I tell her with a wicked smirk, “but definitely good.”
Chapter Fifteen: Merritt
His words cause me to quiver. Everywhere. The next thing I know, we’re throwing ourselves at each other. Our bodies collide, mouths fastening, and it’s like my inner Mt. Vesuvius blows. The heat reaches its zenith, and we’ve become combustible.
This time, Linc isn’t holding back. He’s so powerful, his muscles solid granite beneath my touch. I shove my hands through his short hair, trying to keep up with his hard, demanding kisses. He’s holding my face, tilting my head exactly the way he wants it, and his tongue plunges deeper. The rough calluses on his fingers remind me who he is—not someone who grew up with wealth and privilege, but a man who fought hard for everything he has.
The few kisses I’ve experienced with other men before this were watered-down and pathetic, while Linc’s kiss is beyond exhilarating and masterful. The man certainly knows how to kiss a woman until she’s a trembling mess. For a moment, he makes me forget my own name.
My breasts are crushed against his firm chest, and I push against him, needy and breathless. I can’t miss his huge erection, and I know he must look like a Greek god beneath his clothes. His hands release my face and skim down the sides of my body, cupping my ass and lifting me onto the island. All the while,he continues kissing me and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer.
His large hands hook beneath my thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, and I tear my mouth from his, needing air. I’m burning up. His lips trail down my neck, tongue swirling, and he sucks on the sensitive place where my neck and shoulder meet. When he bites down, I let out a soft whimper. There’s no doubt it’s going to leave a sexy mark.
God, this man is all alpha. So dominant, marking me, and I love it. He’s leading me to places I’ve never been, and I’m going to follow him to the heights of pleasure.
I just hope I don’t disappoint him. Although when I told him I was a virgin, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his espresso eyes seemed to darken and flash with interest.
He finally lifts his head, staring intently at me when he rumbles, “I have no business wanting you. I’m too old for you, too rough around the edges. I’m not a prince, I’m a washed-up fighter and not good enough to lay my hands on you. So, tell me to walk away before it’s too late.”
He’s trying to scare me away, and we both know it. But it’s not going to work. I know what I want, and I want him.
“I don’t want a prince,” I tell him. “I want a night of ecstasy. Can you give that to me, or do I need to go elsewhere? Because I’m not giving my virginity to Jeffrey.”
“Why would you give it to me?” he rasps, truly looking baffled. “I’m no one.”
“You’re the man I choose,” I whisper.
And just like that, I see his walls crumble.
With a possessive growl I feel to the depths of my soul, he sweeps me into his arms like I weigh nothing, and marches out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
“If you put me in bed, kiss my forehead and say goodnight, I’m going to punch you,” I threaten, and he throws his head back and laughs.
“Not this time, sweetheart.”
Excitement ripples through me, and when we reach my room, he tosses me onto the bed. I watch him reach into a pocket, pull his wallet out and remove a foil packet. He lays them both on the nightstand, then he reaches a hand behind his head and yanks his shirt off.
My belly flutters with nerves.This is it. No more messing around.Lincoln Decker is about to give me something no one ever has before, and I am so ready. He’s more than I even imagined, and I let my greedy gaze soak in his naked chest. It’s like a wall of muscle, and I can’t miss the sexy black ink on his shoulder—a crown of thorns with droplets of bright red blood on several of the pointed tips.
I also see a woman’s name written above his heart.
Freezing, I wonder who Theresa is and why she’s so important that he got her name permanently etched on his skin.
He must notice, because he glances down then lays a hand over the tattoo. “My mother,” he murmurs.
A strange sort of relief floods me. He’s a mama’s boy, and I love that. It saddens me, too, because he must miss her terribly.
He crawls forward along the bed, guiding me down and covering my body with his much bigger one. My pulse is racing, and even though he’s on top of me, he’s incrediblyconscious about his size and strength. Which is good, because he could easily crush me. His mouth captures mine and a large, warm hand slips beneath my shirt, slowly moving upward and rounding over a breast.
My breath hitches and I arch into his touch. “Oh, God,” I moan.
There’s too much clothing between us, and he must agree, because he suddenly pushes back.
“Up,” he commands, and I sit up with zero hesitation. Reaching for the hem of my shirt, he pulls it over my head and tosses it. Dark eyes fasten on my fuchsia bra and his nostrils flare. “Take it off. Slowly.”
Swallowing hard, I reach around and unfasten the clasp, letting the straps slide down my arms. I can’t help but feel self-conscious. My breasts are pretty average—not too big or too small—and I’ve never been topless in front of a man. Even my physician is a woman.
