Page 25 of Her Outlaw Prisoner
“Who said self-defense was supposed to be sexy?” she challenges.
“It is. When you’re the one doing it.”
Her breath shudders out as I lean in, eyes locked on hers. My hand slides to her lower back, guiding her closer. She doesn’t resist. Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt.
“Lesson two,” I murmur, my mouth brushing hers. “Distraction.”
Then I kiss her.
It starts slow, just heat and tension, lips teasing. But it builds fast. Hungry. Needy. Like we’ve both been waiting too long, though it’s not even been forty-eight hours since we last kissed. Her hands slide up my chest, into my hair, and I groan as her body presses into mine.
I back her against the exam table, lifting her onto it without breaking the kiss. She gasps, and I take the opportunity to deepen it, tongues tangling, breath mingling. My fingers dig into her thighs, pulling her closer, until there’s nothing between us but the heavy throb of want.
She breaks away, just barely, her lips swollen and eyes glazed. “I thought this was a self-defense lesson,” she whispers breathlessly.
“It is.” I smirk, brushing a kiss against her jaw. “Lesson three—use your body as a weapon.”
She arches against me, her breath hot in my ear. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Good,” I murmur, nipping her bottom lip. “Because if anyone touches you again—anyone—I want you to remember exactly how dangerous you can be.”
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring her. My hands explore the curve of her waist, the line of her spine, like I’m trying to memorize every inch of her.
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why do you care so much?”
I pull back just enough to look her in the eye.
“Baby, I’d burn this place to the ground for you.”
She doesn’t respond for a while, her eyes swirling with emotions that threaten to drown me. Not like I mind. I feel like I can relate to all of them. The past few days since I met her have been a conflict of emotions for me…things I’ve never felt before, never deemed myself capable of feeling.
“Kiss me…” Eleanor says, her voice a needy whisper.
I comply immediately, pressing her against the edge of the exam table. Her legs come around my waist, her thighs encasing me in a tight grip. I pull her closer, losing myself in the scent of her—clean skin, fruity shampoo, something warm and womanly. I deepen the kiss, swallowing every breathless moan, every throaty whimper.
Fuck. I’ll never get enough of her.
My hands slide under her shirt, tracing up her smooth stomach until I find the swell of her breasts, bare and warm and achingto be touched. She gasps into my mouth, her back arching, her nipples pebbling against my palms.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” I murmur, grinning like a bastard.
Her lips brush my jaw. “Didn’t think I’d need one for a shift.”
“You didn’t,” I growl, lifting her shirt and replacing my hands with my mouth. She moans as I drag my tongue over one perfect nipple, then the other, sucking just enough to hear her breath hitch.
I want her wild. I want her ruined. For me.
I yank the shirt over her head, watching her shiver under the cold air and my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, trailing kisses down her stomach. “You don’t even know.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me back up. “Ronan—”
“You want this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She nods, breathless. “I want you.”
That’s all I need.
My hand slides down between us, and I pull her scrub pants and panties off in one motion. Her heat hits me like a punch, wet and ready and made for me.
