Page 47 of Unchained

“S’cuse me.” She rounded his body, entered the bathroom, and shut the door with a click.

Tension radiated up and down her body. She grabbed the vanity for support. She was playing with fire. Tempting an already lust-filled man to . . . what? She couldn’t strut around in clothes like this, sleep in bed next to him, kiss him randomly, and expect him not to want her.

Only he didn’t.

He hadn’t made a move. Just teased. If he wanted to bang her, she’d already be panting beneath him—that was a given. No, Brooks didn’t want her like she wanted him. He didn’t get turned on by her every touch, didn’t heat with desire and want her to do insanely good things to his body.

She wet her toothbrush.

She wasn’t going to get laid by Brooks or anyone else any time soon. Once he was asleep, she’d take care of her own needs—again. And maybe then she’d get through this ordeal without embarrassing herself further.

* * *

Fucking little vixen.

He shuffled in the bed. She acted all doe-eyed and innocent then kissed him and practically made him beg to sleep in bed with her . . . Shit, who was he kidding? He’d been seconds away from dropping to his knees and saying pretty please.

Pathetic.

Then she walked around with a sheer piece of fabric over her full, fuckable tits. Jesus. On top of that, she knew he had a hard time with control. Maybe she wanted him. Maybe she was messing with him. Maybe he just needed to suck up his fear and dive right in.

Learning more about his past had given him some reassurance. Seeing pictures of himself growing up with Lexi in his childhood home with his parents . . . he’d been loved. Deep down, he’d feared he’d been raised to be a monster and that was why he’d blocked out his past—and why the drug had made it so easy for him to hurt people.

But that wasn’t so.

Lexi had assured him he’d never hurt a fly. As soon as he’d smelled that something wasn’t right with Lionsgate, he’d risked his life to right the wrongs. She’d painted him as a saint, and although he wasn’t falling for that, he could concede that he wasn’t a monster.

But could he handle sex without going overboard? He’d knock himself out to protect her if he got too rough. But did Cam want him? Her kiss the previous night told him she did. Unless it’d been an impulsive act of pity.

Nah. She wouldn’t have chosen to wear that outfit to bed if she didn’t want him.

The bathroom door opened and the light clicked off. Darkness hung over the room. His eyes fought to adjust to the change and caught Cam’s outline moving softly to the bed. The rustle of covers came next, and her slim leg bumped his. He slept only in his briefs and wouldn’t apologize for it. He’d deliberately taken up more of the bed than necessary just so he’d be closer to her.

She flopped onto her side, her back to him. “’Night,” she said on a dainty sigh.

The sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo mixed with the feminine scent of her skin floated his way. His cock hardened in his briefs, stretching the material. Every atom in his body ached, begging for him to obtain the release he desperately needed. He turned on his side, facing her back. Moonlight streamed in through the window and touched the blonde hair spread on the pillowcase. The line of her neck coasted down to her shoulder, where the blanket touched her skin.

Fierce desire overtook him.

He brought his hand to her hip underneath the covers. She didn’t flinch, but awareness sizzled the air. He stroked his thumb over the satiny skin that separated the top of her panties from the bottom of her tank top. Each sweep made his core rev.

Her hips wiggled, spurring him on. He inched closer and stretched his arm over her head. “Are you awake?”

Slowly, she turned so her gaze met his. “Kind of hard to sleep.” A playful note pulled at her words.

He brought his free hand to her cheek. His other hand rested just above her pelvis. He’d fit nicely inside. Pushing himself up on to his elbow, he stared at the shaft of light that caught her pale skin. Round eyes watched him with caution. Her bright-white teeth nipped at her bottom lip. Lowering his mouth, he touched his lips to hers. Her hand went to his throat, toying with the now-neat scruff of beard. He delved his tongue between her teeth, and her abdomen spasmed beneath his hand.

Her taste filled his mouth, warm and minty. Her slickness coated his tongue, driving his lust through the roof. He kept his hand on her flesh, anchoring him to her for stability. He couldn’t lose himself. Couldn’t get so caught up in his own need that he lost control. But he had to explore her tantalizing landscape.

Sliding his hand under her shirt, he cupped her breast in his palm. Her tongue moved against his, and a soft moan broke through her mouth. Heat singed his spine, and sweat beaded between his shoulder blades with the effort it took to rein himself in.

As he brushed his thumb over her nipple she jolted, and a sharp cry left her throat. He kissed her now-plump lips then moved the material of her tank aside so he could bring his mouth to her taut little nub. The hard, slightly wrinkled sweetness filled a deep yearning as she gasped beneath him.

“Ah, my god,” she panted.

Jesus. “We haven’t even gotten started, babe.” After pressing a kiss to her tit, he went to the other, leisurely licking and sucking. His fingertips grazed the three-inch-long scar, and he bit back a growl. Damn, he hated that she’d been hurt. He moved his mouth to press a kiss on the mark then returned his attention to her nipple. She gripped his shoulders, hanging on for dear life.

Slowly, he kissed his way up her chest to her neck and over her cheek. More than anything he wanted to be inside her, but the tapping of blood against his temples told him he needed to move slowly. He placed one firm kiss to her lips then turned her over to face the wall.

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