Page 126 of Behind the Shadows
A loud bark shot me out of my skin, and Kip chuckled.
“Hey, Dog.” He turned and knelt, giving Dog a dose of love.
“He’s missed you.” I smiled as Dog’s tail wagged, his back feet skipping across the floor. “I need to check his food and water while you two hang out.” I squeezed Kip’s shoulder as I walked past him and into the kitchen. Apparently, I’d been so distracted while cleaning that I hadn’t even checked on Dog’s kibbles.
Kip continued to talk to his pet until Dog heard the kibbles hit the bowl, then he practically knocked his owner on the floor to get to his dinner.
“Are you starving my dog, Holland?” A lazy grin slipped into place as Kip took the bag of food and put it in the cabinet, safe from Dog breaking into it later when we weren’t looking.
He placed his hands on my waist and walked me backward until my back hit the refrigerator. “I need to touch you and know what we have is real.”
Kip’s mouth crashed onto mine, his hunger raw and insatiable, as if he’d been wandering in a desert and I was the first drop of rain. He gripped my shoulders, pushing me back against the refrigerator. The cold metal hummed against my shoulder blades, seeping through the thin fabric of my T-shirt.
His calloused palm pressed against the hollow of my throat as his tongue explored my mouth. I could feel his pulse, his urgency, like an electric current surging through my body, so intense it could have lit up the room.
His hand, rough and eager, slid under my shirt, tracing the sensitive skin along my hip, my waist, the curve where my ribs swept down. My head fell back as I let him explore every inch of me, his touch sending waves of heat through me.
I clung to his shirtsleeves, fingers digging into the fabric like I was holding on for dear life.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “God, Holland, you have no idea what you do to me.”
I kissed him back, tugging at his hair, tracing his jaw, gripping his collar. We had spent the day stressed and worried, and now we were unraveling, our bodies pressing together with an almost violent intensity.
His fingers grazed my stomach as he found the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head and down my arms. He roamed my body, the cool air from the fridge making my nipples hardenbeneath my bra. He groaned, his mouth finding the valley between my breasts, teeth grazing the scratchy fabric.
“Bedroom,” I managed to gasp. “Come with me?—”
He lifted me off the floor with a grunt, his fingers digging into my thighs.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling every step he took vibrate through me. I could feel his heart pounding, his lips hot on my neck, and his hard cock through his jeans.
The bedroom door slammed open, then shut behind us. He fell onto the bed, pinning me to the mattress with his weight. The ceiling fan whirred above us, stirring the warm, still air. My hands traveled over his biceps, his back, pulling at his shirt. I needed to feel his skin, to feel him.
“You drive me crazy, Holland,” he said, his voice breaking. “I—fuck, I love you. I love you so much it’s killing me.”
I tugged his tee over his head, revealing his heaving chest, freckles scattered across his shoulders, muscles taut. His hair was tousled, wild, and his eyes were dark with desire.
He knelt above me, his gaze tracing over every inch. Then he was on me again, his hands and mouth exploring, worshipping.
My bra snapped open, the straps sliding down my shoulders, exposing me to the air. He looked at my breasts like they were a revelation, his mouth finding one nipple, sucking gently, then harder, drawing a gasp from deep within me.
My thighs clenched, and my pussy responded to his touch.
Kip licked and sucked each breast, my back arching off the bed as I threaded my fingers through his hair. I fumbled with the button and his zipper, freeing his thick, hard cock.
I needed him inside me, claiming me, and fucking me until the rest of the world no longer mattered. Nothing else mattered except the two of us.
Kip moved with purpose, kicking free of his jeans, his boxers, his socks. He was all lean, hard muscle, his body a road mapof scars and old wounds, every single one a testament to his stubbornness, his refusal to give up.
He loomed over me, his gaze dark with hunger, lips wet and parted. His attention slowly traveled over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin, every shiver and twitch. He bit his lower lip, like he was trying to contain everything he felt, but I could see the need in his expression, in the white-knuckle clench of his fists.
I reached for him, pulled him down, felt the press of his cock hot and heavy against my thigh. He groaned into my mouth, hands cradling my face as if he was afraid that I would disappear.
“I want you so bad it hurts,” he said, the words muffled by my lips. “I think about you all the goddamn time.”
“Show me,” I whispered.
He slid down my body, pushing my panties aside with a single, reverent sweep of his fingers. He spread me with his thumbs, staring at my pussy like it was some sacred text he’d only learned to read. Then he ducked his head and licked a slow, deliberate stripe up my slit.
