Page 37 of Never Die for a Sinner
I pause, and he smirks, while my chest flutters uncomfortably. Just when I think I have him figured out, he surprises me again.
Finally, I manage to thread the weird needle and hold it up for him to see.
“I told you I was capable.”
“You’re going to have to sit on my lap.”
I’m sure if my cheeks get any hotter, NASA will label me as a second sun.
My stomach dips to my toes. “That sounds nefarious.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”
Ouch.
“Right, how could I forget? You prefer leggy blondes with a black hole personality.”
“Or I prefer women who won’t get clingy.”
“Okay, that was rude,” I quip, my cheeks flaming. “I do not get clingy.”
“No?”
“No. Least of all with someone like you.”
His eyes flash with that cocky indifference that I’ve come to both loath and crave at the same time.
“Let’s go,” he says, gesturing to his lap. “I don’t want you stabbing me in the eye because you’re unsteady.”
Asshole.
“Should have just let you bleed out,” I grumble under my breath.
I don’t know what it is about this man that makes all my inhibitions and morals jump out the window, but nevertheless, when I place my hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the couch, my heart skitters in my chest at the look in his eyes.
It was there. That fleeting glance. Like he’d gladly fall to his knees and worship me if that’s what I asked for.
I almost laugh, picturing a man like Levi Cross being so consumed by a woman that he’d give up heaven and earth to make her the queen of his hell.
As if he would be that consumed withme.
Carefully, I slip onto his lap, holding the needle above my head to keep from stabbing him. His eyes never leave my face, his tongue running over his teeth when I settle over him, my legs straddling either of his.
My core warms as his gaze slides down my body, toward the center of my thighs, where I rest just over top of him, hovering in an effort to save myself.
“All the way,” he says, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight rasp to his voice that slips through my blood, warming me from the inside out.
He doesn’t touch me even when I rock unstably on his lap, gripping his shoulder to steady myself, but the heat of a thousand suns burns on my skin when I settle over him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against my core.
Oh my God . . . is this turning him on?
He cocks a brow.
“Problem?”
“No problem at all.”
He readjusts his hips, and his cock brushes against my center, unfortunately reminding me of the ache between my thighs.
