Page 103 of Ace of Spades

One second it feels like there’s a gulf between us, and the next, his hands are framing my face, his mouth crashing down onto mine.

I moan into the kiss, clutching at the soaking fabric of his shirt, feeling the raw need pouring off him in waves.

I gasp into his mouth as he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist, his hands branding my thighs.

He carries me to the couch, laying me down and bracing himself over me, dripping water onto my heated skin.

"You are everything," he mutters against my neck. "You hear me, Angel? Everything."

My heart splits wide open at the sound of his voice.

His hands trail down my sides, slipping under the hem of the hoodie, and pauses when he realizes I’m bare underneath it.

Completely bare.

When he pulls it off me, his breath catches and I can feel myself trembling under the weight of his stare.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. "You trying to kill me?"

I try hard to hold back my grin, but then he leans down, his mouth brushing the curve of my breast, kissing reverently before letting his tongue flick over my nipple. I arch into him, gasping.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Let me hear you, Angel. Let me know how good it feels."

He pulls back, his eyes dark and reverent as he takes me in.

“So beautiful.” The praise falls effortlessly from his lips.

His shirt hits the floor next, revealing inked skin stretched taut over broad muscles. I’ve seen him shirtless, but to have this front row view of his art… it’s mesmerizing.

Levi himselfisa work of art.

I sit up, tracing a piece that slices across his ribs. It’s a name I don’t recognize. He flinches, not from pain, but maybe from the touch itself. Like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

"You’re beautiful, Levi," I whisper.

He shuts his eyes for a beat. It’s as if he’s letting those words settle in his soul. And when he looks at me again, there’s nothing holding him back.

He reaches forward, grabs me by the hips and pulls me flush against him. Every brush of his calloused hands makes my skin ignite. He kisses up my stomach, between my breasts, my neck. Then slips his hand behind my neck, pulling my face to meet his and takes my lips into a searing kiss.

I’m breathless when he pulls back searching my eyes, before gently pushing me back against the couch cushions. “Don’t move.”

I melt at the way he takes charge.

He sits back on his heels, slowly spreading my legs open for him with a firm hand on either knee.

"Jesus, baby," he breathes. "You have no idea how badly I need to taste you." He kisses my inner thigh with those wet, hot lips that drive me insane, and looks up at me as he does.

No guy my age has ever touched me like this.

No guy has ever looked at me like I was something holy and dangerous all at once. This is a man who knows what he’s doing. A man who knowsme.

He leans forward dragging his lips over my core, taking his time and breathing me in. He worships me with his hands and mouth, until I’m arching under him, begging without shame.

My fingers tangle in his soaked hair, pulling him up to kiss me again, desperate now.

“No, Angel,” he says in warning, his hand comes up to my throat and I gulp. I can breathe. But the pressure of his hold on me is just dizzying enough. ”I told you not. to. Move.”

He enunciates each word, like it pains him.

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