Page 52 of Drift
A bark of laughter burst from my lips. Damn, I fucking adored this woman.
Love. You fucking love her.
Yeah. But now wasn’t the right time to tell her.
My belt buckle hit the floor with a metallic clink. Denim rasped down my skin. The temperature drop was sharp, and every inch of exposed flesh was hypersensitive to the contrast between heat and cool.
For a heartbeat, I just looked at her.
Sunlight slanted across her skin, gilding every curve in gold. Her generous tits lifted with each breath, high and soft, the tips still flushed rose from my earlier touch. The light traced the smooth line between her thighs, her pussy glinting faintly where her arousal was already gathering.
She shook, desire turning her stormy-gray eyes to the color of steel.
“Perfect,” I breathed, the word more like a vow than an observation.Fucking perfect.
My gaze dragged from her throat down the curve of her stomach to the place I wanted most. Every inch of her was mine now, whether she realized it or not.
I bit back a groan, tension coiling low until it felt like my body might tear itself apart.
The small space between us felt alive, pulsing, until I couldn’t stand not touching her.
I stepped closer, then stopped.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” My hand slid up her inner thigh, stopping just shy of the heat radiating from her.I brushed a fingertip over her folds, just enough to make her breath hitch. “Already drenched for me.”
She swayed toward me—her eyes half-lidded and lips parted. My body went tight, the leash restraining me about to break.
“This is your last warning,” I growled, “I’m done goin’ slow.”
Alanna let out a cute little huff. “Stop teasing me.”
Her words hit like a spark to a fuse.
I caught her mouth and kissed her—hard and deep, no hesitation left. The kind of kiss that shook loose the rest of the world. Tongues exploring, tasting, and stealing parts of our souls.
We stumbled through the room, half blind and half drunk on each other. One hand cupped the back of her neck, and the other found her hip and steered her toward the bed. We bumped into the dresser, and she giggled against my mouth, breathless. The sound burned straight through my chest.
“You think I’m teasing, huh?” I rasped between kisses. “Keep talking and find out.”
Her answer was a sigh that melted against my lips.
The taste of her—salt, vanilla, and that something sweet I couldn’t name—was more tempting than any addiction I’d ever tried to quit. Her nails slid across my shoulders, down my back, scratching my flesh just enough to sting. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, I eased her down and followed, bracing myself on one arm so I didn’t crush her, the other tracing the curve of her waist.
The sheets were cool under her, her skin almost glowing against them. I broke the kiss, dragged my mouth down her throat, and felt her pulse thrum under my tongue. The soft hitch in her breath was a dare I answered with another slow trail over her shoulder.
She made a soft noise that could’ve been my name or a prayer.
“Fuck, baby. Can’t get enough of that sound.”
I mapped her with my mouth, stopping to eat up the sight of her full, round globes and their hard tips. Cupping both, I traced my tongue around one nipple, then sucked it deep into my mouth, while my free hand brushed my thumb over the other in slow, rhythmic circles before twisting and plucking it to drive her crazy. I alternated my attention, using my mouth and hands, reading her breath and sounds as cues. The catch in her breathing every time I changed the pressure, her fingers tugging on my hair, grasping it like a lifeline.
“Chance,” she moaned, making my cock leak, begging to be inside her. But I wasn’t ready yet.
“That’s it,” I rasped. “Let me hear you.”
Every whimper, every moan, they buzzed along my skin like an electric current and pulled another low growl out of me.
Moving on, I glided down her body, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses in my wake. My palms framed her waist, my tongue tracing every dip of her hips, then her belly, and followed the faint tremor that ran through her stomach muscles. The air smelled like her skin, clean sheets, and the hunger pouring off both of us.
