Page 128 of Endgame

What a dumb thing to ask.

I knew he wasn’t awake.

Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I leaned over him and gently touched his shoulder with trembling fingers. “Rourke?”

He didn’t budge.

My eyes flickered to the black traveler’s notebook laying open and face down on the mattress. Curiosity burned inside me at the sight of the familiar notebook. I’d seen Rourke with this tattered old thing on many occasions since coming to live here. What did he keep in there? Was it his journal or something? Did boys keep journals? None I’d ever met.

Don’t do it, Mercy!

Don’t touch it…

“Six?” Rourke’s voice caught me by surprise and I gasped before quickly snatching my hand away. “What’s wrong?” he asked, tone sleepy as he rolled onto his back and looked up at me, accidentally knocking the notebook on the floor.

“I, um…” How did I answer this without sounding completely pathetic, not to mention desperate? “I can’t sleep,” I finally offered. It was a lame excuse to be in his room in the middle of the night, but it was mostly the truth. Of course, I left out the part where I wanted to spend the rest of the night having him kiss me senseless.

A slow smile crept across his face. “Is that so?” His voice was gruff and thick from sleep, and yet held an undeniable hint of humor.

“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling like a dope. I moved to fold my arms in front of my stomach, but Rourke reached out and grabbed my hand.

Tugging hard, Rourke pulled me onto his bed and sat me on his lap, straddling his hips. “How can I help?” His hands automatically moved to my hips, his fingertips pressing into my skin. “Six?” He rocked his hips upwards at the same time as pulling my body down hard on him.

Exhaling heavily, I dropped my hands to his chest and sagged forward. “This isn’t helping,” I breathed, feeling his erection press between my legs. The feeling of him grinding so close to where no other had been before made it hard for me to focus. “Like…really isn’t helping.”

“No?” Rourke whispered, repeating the movement, and this time I moaned loudly. He chuckled softly, tightening and then retightening his hold on my hips. “What about this?” he asked seconds before reaching under the hem of my tank top and whipping it over my head.

I watched, stunned, as Rourke flung my tank on his bedroom floor and sat forward. “Better?” he quipped, his lips inches from mine.

“I don’t know,” I replied breathily. “I think I’m, uh, still a little over dressed.”

Smirking, Rourke took a slow appraisal of my body. “I think you’re right,” he whispered huskily when his gaze landed on my lacy black bra.

I had to close my eyes when he trailed his fingers up my sides, moving ever so slowly to my bra. When his fingers found the fabric covering my breasts, Rourke reached up and slipped each strap down my shoulders before trailing his hands behind my back and freeing my bra clasp with an efficiency that should have worried me.

It didn’t.

I was too turned on to care how many bras Rourke had taken off. I only cared that it wasmy brahe was removing right now.

The low growl Rourke released when my breasts sprang free caused a pool of wetness between my legs. My clit throbbed, desperate for attention, my nipples puckered and strained.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Six,” he told me, eyes roaming over my naked skin.

I watched him watching me, the moment almost too intimate to take. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” he told me, reaching out to palm one of my breasts. “In that tight, red dress…” He circled my nipple with his fingers. “And these.” Dipping his head, he pressed a soft kiss to each of my breasts before pulling one pebbled nipple into his hot, wet mouth and sucking. “Jesus, Six,” he groaned, releasing my nipple with a loud pop. “I don’t have words, baby.”

Neither did I.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, I sagged forward and wrapped my arms around Rourke’s neck. He rewarded my move by jerking out from beneath me and rolling me onto my back in one fluid movement.

Oh yeah, this guy knew what he was doing.

I watched as Rourke reached a hand behind him and tugged his shirt over his head before tossing it on the floor. The intensity of his gaze had me pinned to the bed as he stared down at me through dark, hooded lashes.

My eyes took in his hard, chiseled chest and his toned, ripped stomach muscles that seemed to clench and contract every time he breathed. God, he was so beautiful. The trail of dark hair from his navel, disappearing under the waistband of his boxers was so fucking hot, I wanted to lick it.

I was hot, wet, and painfully horny. I knew that was a word most associated with men, but I didn’t give a shit. I was horny, plain and simple.

Deep down inside, I knew the sensible thing to do would be to put my clothes back on and go back to my room, but what I wanted was to take him inside of my body. I knew I would never forgive myself if I walked away now. My heart was racing so hard in my chest, I found myself breathing faster; exhaling in short, puffy breaths.

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