Page 43 of Broken Vows

But with hunger.

Like a man already plotting exactly how he’s going to take what he wants. His jacket comes off first, tossed over the sleek arm of the couch. Then his sleeves rolled up, his watch removed carefully and set down.

“Getting ready for something?” I tease him, adjusting my body to show off my curves.

“Lose the dress. Now. I’ve waited long enough to have you like this.”

I arch a brow. “Bossy tonight.”

Vincent steps forward until he’s in my space, close enough that his breath warms the shell of my ear. “Tonight?” he murmurs. “Always.”

Electricity rolls over my skin as I reach for the hidden zipper at the side of my dress. The fabric loosens, falls in a whisper to the floor, pooling around my bare feet. Underneath, I’m wearing lingerie I picked out not for him, but for the image. Lacy, emerald green to match the gown—but his reaction makes it worth every sheer inch of lace.

His eyes drag down my body like hands. You’d think this was the first time he was seeing me. In some ways, maybe it is.

“Turn around. Let me see all of you.” he says, voice low.

I do, slowly—letting him take his time. I hear the catch of his breath, the shift of his stance. Behind me, his fingers slide along the line of my spine, tracing the clasp of my bra but not undoing it yet. He leans in, mouth brushing my shoulder.

“I watched you all night," he murmurs.

“Smiling at me. Letting them all stare.”

“But you’re only mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I breathe.

His hands move around my waist, fingers splaying across the slight swell of my belly. Instinctively, I cover his hands with mine—his gesture as territorial as it is tender. He brushes a kiss behind my ear, down the curve of my neck, taking his time like he wants to memorize it.

Then something changes.

His mouth turns rougher, open-mouthed kisses dragged along my jaw, down the curve of my throat. One hand cups my breast through lace, his thumb brushing the peak until I gasp; the other slides down, teasing at the edge of my thong.

“Vincent,” I whisper, already breathless.

He turns me around and lifts me onto the island without warning. My thighs part for him automatically. His mouth returns to mine in a kiss that scorches, slow and consuming. His tongue slides against mine, deliberate and sure, and the friction of our clothes becomes unbearable.

He peels the lingerie aside slowly, reverently, exposing me inch by inch like a secret he plans to keep. Then his mouth follows—lower, over the scar along my side, the hollow below my hip, tasting everywhere but where I want him. I’m trembling now, nails digging into his shirt as he begins to kiss down my inner thigh.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, lips moving just above the spot I need him most. “Good girl. I’m not done with you yet.”

When his mouth finally finds me, all coherent thought vanishes.

His tongue moves expertly, like he’s studying a subject he intends to master. Every flick, every tease leaves me gasping, trembling under the weight of sensation. His hands steady my thighs as I writhe against his mouth—and when he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Beautiful,” I swear I could come from those words alone.

But he doesn’t let me.

Not yet.

He rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes nearly black with desire. “On your knees,” he says.

The command sends a thrill racing through me. I slide off the counter slowly, deliberately, and sink to the floor as he beginsundoing his belt—metal clinking, fabric rustling, controlled chaos. I look up at him, heart racing.

The way he watches me—eyes half-lidded, hunger barely restrained—is intoxicating.

I take him in my mouth slowly, savoring the groan he tries to swallow. My hands rest against his thighs, my rhythm maddening, deep and slow. He fists my hair, guiding me, his control slipping as I give him everything without saying a word.

“Fuck—if I don’t take you right now, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

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