Page 39 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
In a swift motion, I lift her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist, and she clings to me as our kiss deepens. Every movement is hungry and demanding and so damn good. I press her against the wall, loving how she moves. Her hips shift as if trying to encourage me - not that I need encouragement. Every motion of her body is a silent plea for more, and I know without a doubt she wants this as much as I do.
“Bedroom,” she says, the word ending on a gasp as my teeth scrape her throat.
“Bedroom.” I follow the gesture of her hand and try to keep the lust flooding me under control.
We move together through her home, my feet carrying us both toward her bedroom as she kisses me again. With every step, I'm acutely aware of her body against mine, the heat, the connection that's been building between us for what feels like a lifetime.
As we cross the threshold, I lay her gently on her bed, trying to remind myself to go slow and be gentle with her. I hover above her, savoring the sight of her hungry expression and the anticipation.
“Are you sure?” I ask once more, lowering my head to rest my forehead against hers.
“More than anything,” she whispers, arching her back and lifting her lips to mine.
As I pin her to the soft bed, my mind races as quickly as my pulse. Her skin is flushed with desire, and her eyes are begging me to keep going, but I have to pause, have to be responsible.
“I don't have any condoms,” I say, needing to check in with her. With a smile, I drag a knuckle down her cheek, “I wasn’t prepared for this.”
Her brow furrows for a moment before she smiles, a hint of mischief dancing in those sky-blue depths. “It's okay. I have a birth control implant.”
Surprise flickers through me. “But you—”
“Have never done this? True.” She cuts me off and a soft laugh chases her words. “But birth control isn’t only for preventing pregnancy,” she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw as her gaze locks on mine.
“Condoms aren’t just for preventing pregnancy, either.” I’m shocked at how easy this conversation is to have with her. “You should always use a condom, regardless.”
She presses her lips into a thin line, her look telling me she doesn't need a lesson from me right now, but I worry about her. “I'm well aware of STDs and STIs, thank you. I’m pretty sure I’m clean and I trust you wouldn't risk sleeping with me if you had anything.”
I nod. She’s one hundred percent correct.
She lowers her voice. “Your pillow talk needs work.”
Her unexpected comment makes me laugh. Even now, when everything feels so intense, so critical, she finds a way to keep things light. It's one of the countless reasons I'm drawn to her, why I've been fighting this battle within myself for so long.
“Guess I'll have to practice,” I say, and press my lips to hers in a tender kiss.
Pulling back, I let my hands roam over her body, deliberately slow, skimming the hem of her shirt before lifting it gently. I move, my lips following the upward path of her shirt and she rises up on her elbows. Together, we free her of the shirt, then I reach around to free the clasps of her bra, my gaze on hers as I silently tell her she can stop me any time with a word.
When her shirt and bra are off, I take a moment to admire the expanse of her pale skin, shining silky-smooth in the soft glow of her bedroom light.
“Kade,” she whispers, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip.
“Emma Riley,” I whisper back, gently working her pants down her beautiful thighs. Each piece of clothing that falls away reveals more of her, and I commit every inch to memory. The curve of her waist, the rise of her hips, the way she shivers under my touch.
“More.”
I comply, wanting nothing more than to worship her completely.
“Patience,” I say, kissing a trail down her stomach, tasting her skin here and there.
Her soft breathing turns to gasps, and I savor the sound.
I kneel on the floor beside her bed as the last barrier between us skimps past her ankles to the floor. My breath hitches as I take in the sight of her, naked and sweet.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, it's all the urging I need.
I lean in, my lips and teeth finding the softness of her inner thigh. She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, a quiet plea escaping her lips. Her taste is intoxicating. Slowly, attentively, I explore her with my lips and tongue, savoring the way her thighs tremble and every breathy moan that spills from her.
She tastes like summer and sunshine, like sin and sweets, like my favorite dessert, and I can’t get enough as I run my tongue in long strokes before focusing on the bundle of nerves that makes her whole body tense.