Page 10 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
Not that I was pulling back to look.
He moved quickly to the bed and lay me down on it, then pulled back to look at me for a moment. His eyes were dark and fathomless, his lips relaxed and full, and I put a finger to them.
“My first thought when I saw you was that you must be an amazing kisser,” I said.
And then I wanted to slap myself for saying something so stupid. Who the fuck gets in bed with Rivers Shine and tells him that she thought about kissing him the first time she saw him?
Instead of laughing at me, though, he licked his lower lip, then ducked his head and gave me a slow, searching kiss. “And?” he whispered against my lips. “Were you right?”
I pushed up off the bed, finding it suddenly hard to breathe, and gasped. “I’m not sure. Maybe you better do it some more so I can make my decision.”
Another deep, very dark chuckle from him that sent all of my blood rushing right to the spot between my legs, and he brushed his lips against mine again. “Anything else you might want me to try? Just for the sake of research, of course.”
His hand traveled from my face down my neck, between my breasts, to rest lightly on my stomach, and I started to breathe more quickly.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Just for research. Of course.”
“Of course,” he whispered.
And without asking, he slid his hand lower. Under the waistband of my jeans and then under the cotton of my panties. Lower and then lower again as my legs dropped open and my body bowed up, acting of its own free will.
When he found the wetness between my legs I cried out with the sudden satisfaction of feeling him there but he dove down and claimed my mouth again, swallowing my cry. And then we were finished being slow or shy or hesitant. His fingers curled against me, making me buck for him, and I gasped and tried desperately to get out of my jeans. His hand left me for a moment and seconds later he was jerking my jeans down over my legs. Throwing them to the side and giving me a quick, dark look before stripping me of my panties as well.
I would have felt shy. I would have second-guessed what I was doing. But I was burning with need for him by this time and too far gone to let my brain hold any sway.
He stood up and stripped off his shirt, revealing a body so full of artwork that I couldn’t take it all in. Every inch of his skin was covered with color. Swirls and lines and illustrations that must map out the path of his life, and that I would have asked about except that now definitely wasn’t the time.
He got his pants down, bending to pull them from his ankles, and when he stood, his cock at attention and bumping against his belly, I gasped again.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmured.
That half-smile that I was starting to really like colored his mouth and he crawled back into bed with me, pausing only to remove my shirt before he bent to kiss my neck, just under my ear. “That’s my line,” he whispered.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t use it,” I murmured back. “Are you going to spend the rest of the night talking or are you actually going to do something about it?”
I felt his lips smile against my skin and his knee moved between my legs, spreading them apart and making room for him. He was on me before I could take a breath, the head of his cock nudging against me and my wrists wrapped in one of his hands.
“Are you complaining?” he asked. “Or are you going to run?”
I looked up into his gorgeous, sad eyes and shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Instead of answering, he spread me apart a little more, kissed me, and then pushed inside of me.
RIVERS
Iopened my eyes to the sun streaming through my window… and a splitting headache.
I put my hand to my forehead, surprised at the depth of the pain in there, and tried to remember how much I’d had to drink last night. What had even been doing? I remembered getting back to the room, annoyed with all the photographers outside—why were there so many already?—and then getting a text from Taylor.
She was upset about my reputation. She and the other higher-ups were worried about it doing damage to Olivia and Connor, who had the squeakiest, most wholesome reputations known to man. The entire tour was evidently going to take that squeaky-clean line, and I was screwing it up.
She’d said I had to do something about it.
She probably hadn’t meant I should get drunk in my room and pass out, although at least being in my room meant I hadn’t been out making any public trouble. I hadn’t involved anyone else, and technically that was an improvement, right? Hell, maybe I was already working on my reputation. If I kept the drinking to my room, did that count as trying to clean myself up? If I took that to Taylor—
A soft huff from my left yanked me right out of my thoughts and I turned my head slowly in that direction.
