Page 111 of Broken Romeo

I clutch his shoulders, my nails leaving indentations on his suit as he lowers his mouth to my breasts, latching onto my pebbled nipples.

I crave that talented mouth of his elsewhere, and I scoop my hands into his hair, tugging and clawing at the silky strands between my fingers.

He drops to his knees before me and looks like a man worshiping an altar as he tears my robe open.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he growls.

My thundering heart reprimands me with each heavy beat against my breastbone.

Thump. Thump. Thump—Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

But every other inch of my body screams, Yes.

My robe hangs open on either side of my body, a thin drape of silk that brushes my flesh each time I squirm.

“Holden.” I mean for his name to be a warning, but it comes out a desperate, strangled cry.

“I want to taste you,” he whispers, looking up from between my thighs. “Please. Let me taste you.”

“I want to…”

There’s a but somewhere in there, yet I can’t manage to bring myself to say it. I want this so badly.

“Then say yes,” Holden prods, pausing to lean into my sex. The tip of his nose brushes my clit and my knees go weak. If not for his hands gripping my hips, I would have crumpled to the ground.

“Yes.” The word is out before I can change my mind. I’ve spent the better part of five years pretending and lying to myself that I don’t love and miss this man with every ounce of my soul. I’ve deprived my body and my heart—for once, can’t I indulge?

I expect him to dive in and devour me.

Instead, ever controlled, he spreads me and with a slow drag of his tongue he samples me. The long glide from my opening to my clit is sublime torture, and my groan echoes through the apartment.

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs before flattening his tongue against me.

The intense whirring sound in my head dizzies my mind and my hands fist into the silk of my robe.

His mouth covers me, the hot caress of his tongue rotating between sucking and licking. My thighs quake. God help me, I could never turn Holden away—never wanted to. Who was I kidding thinking I could harden my heart to him? There’s only one thing I want hardened when it comes to Holden—and it’s not any body part of mine.

Now I’m too far gone to turn back, a thought that both exhilarates and terrifies me.

“Give yourself over to me, Katherine,” he murmurs against my skin, the warm vibration of his words rippling through me.

So many meanings in one single phrase.

With his tongue still laving my clit, he presses two fingers to glide inside of me. Sheathed to the knuckles, he pulses slowly, in and out as I arch my back off the wall behind me, pinpricks of light invading my vision.

“Holden,” I pant. Gripping his hair, I cry out and thrash against the wall. The building pleasure is too exquisite to stay silent.

“Come for me, Katherine.”

I’m powerless against his demand. Heat sparks through my body as the spasms clutch my legs and core. That sinful mouth of his is relentless. Even through the clutching spasms, his lips, tongue, mouth, and fingers ravage my body until the final wave relaxes, leaving me a heap of exhausted muscle.

He grips me, kissing up my body, pausing above my lips and holding me gently against him. Even though his suit is cashmere, it’s rough against my ultra-sensitive skin and reminds me that he is still fully clothed versus the thin veil of fabric not covering my body at all.

I reach between us, cupping his hard length in my hand, and my throat goes dry at the heavy girth pressing against his flat front pants. I’d almost forgotten how utterly perfect Holden’s body is—every inch of it.

I squeeze and he groans, slanting his mouth over mine, he kisses me again, his tongue stroking gently against my lips, parting them.

We stay there like that. Holding each other. Kissing. Panting. Until I shift, my toe hitting the folder that had fallen from his hands earlier. A stack of papers is half out.