Page 93 of Sin with Me

He tucks a lock of blonde hair behind my ear, forcing a hitch in my breath when his fingertips brush my cheek. My body is on fire, and I can hardly breathe.

“And in Carlos’s office? Another test? Or is that when it turned into a game?”

He leans forward so that the tip of his nose almost touches mine. It grazes my cheek, and his breath warms my skin as his mouth passes over my face to my ear.

“No,” he says, and the low rumble of his voice makes my body quiver to the core. “I don’t play games, Makenna. If I did, you’d have been fucked and forgotten a long time ago. We’ve discussed this already. That night in my father’s office was about overcoming weakness.” He brings his mouth back to mine, letting his lips linger above my lips, his breath intertwine with my own.

His words, his closeness, his control, ignite something within me, the response a hot, wet pool between my thighs. “You don’t appear to have many weaknesses,” I say, my voice cracking, though I try to be confident.

“Just one.” His face is so close to mine that when he flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, it grazes mine.

“And now?” I whisper.

“Now?” he repeats. “You’re going to be fucked, but I doubt you’ll be easily forgotten.”

His hands glide up the sides of my body, pulling my sweater with them as they go. He backs his head away from mine long enough to lift my sweater over my head and toss it onto the floor. Unhurried fingertips draw imaginary trails over the crest of my breasts then down the valley between them and across my bare stomach. He slips the tip of his index finger into the waistband of my leggings and runs it back and forth as he contemplates his next move. I draw in a breath and roll my hips, encouraging him to keep going. There is no doubt.

No insecurities.

No pain.

There is only Callisto.

And I want him.

His hands tug the leggings off my body then skim along my calves and up the back of my thighs, as he inches between them. He props my legs up over his shoulders, bringing the tip of his nose to the source of my wetness and slowly inhaling the scent of me.

“This,” he growls, burying his face between my thighs. “This is why I can’t stay away from you. You want this just as much as I do.”

Yes. God, yes.

I lift my hips and grab a handful of his unruly hair. Through my panties, I can feel the heat of his breath against my aching core. He spears his tongue and runs it along my wet slit, making me curse the thin piece of fabric that currently separates his mouth from my flesh.

He backs away, and I almost whimper. “Soon, baby. Very fucking soon.”

I look up at him, breathless, wanting, not even able to properly beg.

He stands up, then holds out his hand to me. As soon as I stand, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom.

He lays me on top of a solid white comforter, then stands beside me and begins to unbutton his shirt. My hands beg to touch him with each button he unfastens, each piece of skin that he reveals. Once he’s reached the last button, I’m sitting up in front of him, my face even with his perfectly chiseled abdomen.

He slips the shirt off over his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor then takes a step forward. That’s when I see it. He has a scar near his groin, just to the left of his perfectly sculpted V, almost in the same exact spot where Reid was stabbed. My trembling fingers are unwittingly drawn to the silvery line of raised flesh there. Flashbacks of an unforgettable time and place race through my mind, and I fight frantically to make them go away. Only this time in my mind it’s not Reid lying covered in blood, it’s Callisto. I’m overcome with a swarm of emotions I don’t understand and have no idea how to control. My chest constricts and I struggle to breath. I close my eyes to fight back tears that are forcing themselves free.

Strong hands, capable hands, cup my cheek, holding me steady, grounding me.

I catch my breath and look up at him.

“Enough. It’s just a memory. It has no place here,” he says, a quiet calm to his voice, and I am transported back here, with him.

I swallow the lump in my throat and return my attention to the man in front of me. His skin is the perfect olive tone and his physique is lean yet chiseled. Like he makes an effort but doesn’t over-do it.

I reach out and unbuckle his belt while he gently strokes my hair. When I’ve managed to get him out of his pants, he climbs onto the bed with me. He is on his knees in front of me, his fingers slipping beneath the straps of my bra and easing them off my shoulders. He presses his lips against my skin. They’re so soft, so warm.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks.

“What? Oh… Yes. A shot. I get a shot,” I reply, thankful that at least one of us is still managing to think clearly.

“Good,” he says, “Because I want to feel every single part of you around me.”

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