Page 141 of SINS & Riley
I skip the cleaver entirely, and point to a long, thin blade.
His eyes flash approval as he pulls it free. With one finger under my strap, he slices clean through.
Then the other.
My breasts spill free, heavy and aching for his touch.
One more stroke and the last scrap of fabric falls to the floor. He makes quick work of my panties too, and I can’t help wondering how many of these we’ll go through in a year.
He lowers his head, tongue dragging down my neck, lips closing around my nipple before sucking it in, then biting down.
“Ahh!”
The sound rips up my throat, half laugh, half sob. I’m half out of my mind with how good he makes me feel.
He lashes the other one, then takes a step back. I sense it before I see it—the shift.
The dark presence. The command.
“Look at me,” he growls.
The words are soft, but they land like an axe. My eyes meet his.
God, the way he looks at me.
His gaze drags down over me like I’m something rare, something he’s been starving for. My skin prickles, my pulse sprints. No one has ever looked at me like this.
Anxious instincts kick in. I fold in on myself, arms crossing over my chest.
“Don’t.” His voice cuts low, a growl against the air. “Don’t you dare hide your body from me.”
I force my arms back to my sides, every muscle trembling.
“Good girl.” He slides a hand to my stomach. “As this baby grows in your belly, I will look at you. I will worship you. And you will let me.”
The words sink deep. Heat floods my cheeks, sliding lower, pooling thick between my thighs.
He circles me slow, a predator at ease, and my body thrums beneath the weight of his stare. Every nerve alive.
But I don’t stop him.
I let him take me in—piece by piece, inch by inch.
“You think I’ll ever get enough of you?” His knuckles graze down my breast, trace my ribs, skim my hip, leaving fire in their wake. His voice goes rough, unholy.
“I’ll never have my fill of you, Pom. Not in four minutes, not in four lifetimes.”
My breath stutters.
He takes my wrist and presses my palm to his chest. His heart hammers against my hand, thrashing so hard it steals the beat from mine.
“You feel that?” His eyes burn into mine. “It beats for you. When you go, I die.”
He lifts me onto the ice-cold marble counter. The chill bites, but God, it feels good.
My legs tremble, then fall open for him.
They know what’s coming. They know how devastatingly good it’s going to feel.
