Page 36 of Hidden Shadows
Immediately, he rolled them and pressed her to the mattress. Then his hand touched her bare stomach. Slowly, he slid up her ribs, her shirt rising with his hand, before settling over her breast. She moaned again, deeper, and that sound set off a storm in his chest.
He palmed her breast before finding her nipple with the pad of his thumb and grazing it lightly. Her breaths became choppy, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nails almost breaking skin.
God, this woman…her sounds, her softness…everything about her drove him fucking crazy.
He tore his mouth from hers and kissed down her cheek, then her neck. When he reached her chest, he took one pebbled nipple between his lips and sucked. The noise that rippled from her throat was something akin to torment. He wanted more. He wanted to fucking bathe in this woman’s desire.
He ran his tongue over the tight bud, first in a circle, then flicking it back and forth.
Finley writhed beneath him, her fingers now pulling at the strands of his hair. When he switched to the other breast, it was the same thing.
He’d just trailed a line of kisses up her neck and was reaching for the waistband of her shorts when the hotel phone rang in her room.
For a moment, they both stilled.
He lifted his mouth and touched his forehead to hers. Their heavy breathing was a soft counterpoint to the jarring phone.
“I should get that,” she breathed, disappointment coating her words.
He had to force himself to lean to the side. To uncage her from the bed. But even as she moved, his fingers twitched to tug her back to him.
Silently, she moved to her room. He got up and walked to the doorway, watching as she lifted the receiver.
“Hello?” There was a small pause. “Yes, this is Finley.”
When her knuckles whitened, he closed the space between them.
“Okay. Thank you, I’ll come get it.” She hung up and turned, looking up at him. “A package has been left at reception for me.”
* * *
“I’m coming.”
Nixon spun on her, moving so fast she almost fell back onto his bed. “You’re not.”
“Unless you plan on resorting to locking me in my room, which I would break out of by the way, I’m going down with you to get my package.”
She’d never thrown clothes on so quickly in her life, because she knew—one second too long and the man would go down without her. Hell, he’d been dressed and had one hand on his door when she’d stepped into his room.
Anger blasted over his face. “We don’t know what this package is. It could be dangerous.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “I’m going.”
“Finley.” Her name was a growl.
She straightened her spine. “If you keep me here, I’ll call them and tell them not to give you my package.”
They shouldn’t anyway, but knowing Nixon, he’d probably spew some words about them being together and being sent for her delivery.
He took two big steps forward, towering over her. She almost stepped back. Heck, she almost stumbled back. When the man wanted to intimidate someone, he could. But she refused to cower or step away.
“Finley—”
“I’m coming, Nixon.”
His chest filled with a deep breath, then he cursed. “Fine. But I take the package, and I open it down there. We’re not bringing it back to the room.”
“Deal.”
