Page 83 of Dangerous Mission
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He inhales slowly against my temple. “Good. You should be. I’m not good for you. You deserve a man that doesn’t have the kind of fucked up?—”
Argh. I unclench my teeth. “Stop! You’re not allowed to talk badly about yourself with me.”
He’s still for a few seconds, then he laughs huskily against my hair. “You baffle me, Aria. That’s the only reason I’m even having this conversation. I don’t kiss. I don’t fuck women that expect more than a physical relief. I have sex and on my terms. Never while I’m working, and most definitely not with a friend’s baby sister.”
There’s so much in those sentences that I can’t even begin to process it all. But one remark sticks. He doesn’t kiss? Well you could fool me.
Tell my silly hormones that he didn’t kiss me to the point of delirium. Because that’s the only explanation for what I ask next. “What would you tie me up with?”
His voice turns to gravel. “Rope, normally, but I’m not going back to the truck, so I’ll use your shirt.”
Whoa.
I fight the tightness in my throat that feels a lot like my heart is trying to punch my tonsils.
Why is it so damned sexy to think about him trying me up with my own clothing?
My mouth drops open, and out comes the craziest statement of my life. “I’ll let you.”
He groans, his cock pulses, monstrously large and hot against my bottom.
Burrowing his nose deeper into my neck, he rasps, “This is the worst,worst, fucking worst idea ever. Your brother is literally going to shit bricks.”
It’s my turn to growl.
“First, don’t ever mention my brother in a conversation about sex. That’s just ick. Second, let me be the judge of half of this idea. And I’m thinking it’s not the worst idea ever. I actually think it might be exactly what we both need right now, because this sexual tension is killing me.”
His other arm comes around me, sweeping my right wrist up in his hold as he does. Now he’s got me—both arms locked in his grip—crossed over my own chest with me pinned against his abs.
A thrill runs through me at the sheer size of his gigantic body locked against my back, at the control he has over me.
It’s freaking crazy that I’d want this—that I’d ever want to be restrained after what happened. But here I am. And I can’t stop a train that’s already left the station.
I’m not just playing with fire, I’m swimming in it. A raging, burning sea of it.
The only explanation is that I’m ravenous for Scout.
In a deeply primal way that can only be blamed on chemistry. There’s no reasoning with my brain over this one. Ten bazillion cells in my body are driving and I’m just along for the ride.
Aching, throbbing. Coming unglued, I melt into nothingness in his arms, consumed by his intensity.
Breathless, I say, “Are we going to stand here and talk about sex, or are we actually going to do something, Memphis?”
The tip of my tongue tingles at the use of his real name.
He groans hotly.
My heart throbs a beat that reaches all the way to my pussy.
“Do you have a safe word?”
It takes me a second to process his question. Then I laugh, sounding a little crazed. “No. Should I?”
He nips my neck, then trails his tongue over the stinging bite, and any semblance of words flies out of my brain.
“Definitely need one. Pick something you won’t forget.”