Page 11 of The Hitman's Forbidden Obsession

A shudder works through me, and then I’m leaning back into his chest, eyes drifting closed, surrendering to the moment. He kisses my neck again, a little harder this time. It’s not enough.

He must sense that, because the next thing I know, he’s turning me in his arms, pressing me against the wall as his lips find mine again.

God, his lips. They’re firm and insistent, kissing me with a hunger that makes my stomach clench. His tongue slides against mine, slow and sensual, and it’s the most intoxicating feeling. He tastes like scotch and the faintest hint of something dark and spicy. It’s addicting.

One hand threads through my hair, cradling the back of my head, angling me just right to take the kiss deeper. He’s still caging me in with his body, pinning me against the wall like he can’t stand the thought of not touching me. I like that. The way his strength and size surround me. How it makes me feel safe and wanted all at once.

It feels natural, somehow. Like he’s always supposed to be holding me this way.

I slide my hands up his chest and wind them around his neck, clinging to him, and the low noise he makes against my mouthis pure sex. His free hand finds the hem of my dress, his fingers skimming the backs of my thighs, and then his hands are sliding up under my skirt, cupping my ass through the thin fabric of my panties.

Oh, God.

I gasp into his mouth, and the corner of his lips turn up.

“I’ve been dying to do this,” he whispers. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you all day.”

His words send a bolt of liquid heat straight between my thighs, and I rock my hips against him involuntarily. He groans, deep and primal, and I can feel his erection digging into my hip.

My head is spinning. I can’t believe I’m here, in his arms, being kissed senseless. I’m not sure I’m actually awake. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe...

My thoughts fracture and fall apart when his hands slide around to the front, and then his fingertips are grazing the insides of my thighs, tracing up, up, higher, until he’s brushing against the soaked fabric of my panties.

“I can’t wait to hear you moan my name, angel,” he whispers.

And then his fingers are there, sliding the fabric aside and stroking up against my clit.

My hips jerk, and a broken whimper slips out. I cling to his shoulders, trying not to melt completely into a puddle at his feet.

“Fuck, Avery. You’re already soaked for me.”

I don’t even try to reply. All I can do is hold on and kiss him back, trying to match the intensity. He kisses me deeper, stroking slow circles over the most sensitive part of my body, and I have to break the kiss, gasping, because oh, God, that feels good.

“Don’t stop,” I manage, the words barely more than a whisper.

His fingers keep moving, and I’m rocking against his hand, panting, lost in a haze of pleasure, when his fingers move lower, and then one thick digit is sliding inside me.

“Dante,” I gasp, clinging tighter to him.

“There it is,” he growls. “Just like that.”

And then his finger is thrusting slowly, dragging over spots inside me that make me tremble and whimper and arch my back. I’ve never felt anything like it. Never imagined it could feel this good.

Another finger joins the first, stretching me, filling me up, and his palm grinds against my clit with every slow thrust. I can’t stop the sounds that are coming from my throat. Can’t keep from writhing against his hand, needing him deeper, wanting more.

“I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll be lucky if you can walk straight tomorrow, Avery,” he growls against my ear.

If any other man had said that to me, I would have assumed they were all talk. But with the way Dante is expertly stroking his fingers inside me, hitting spots that make me tremble and shake, I have no doubt he’s going to make good on that promise.

“Let go, angel,” he whispers. “Just let go.”

And then his fingers are speeding up, hitting deeper, harder, and his mouth crashes down on mine. My entire body goes rigid, my cry muffled by his lips as the orgasm hits me. The world blurs around the edges, and the only thing I’m aware of is Dante and the feeling of him working me through the release.

He drags every last aftershock from me until the only thing holding me upright is his body pinning me against the wall. When the tremors finally die away, he’s pulling his fingers free. His hand disappears from under my skirt, but I’m too boneless and weak to protest.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, eyes locked on mine. “Delicious.”

Heat explodes in my cheeks, and I have to look away, unable to handle how shamelessly sexy he is. He doesn’t let me hide forlong, though. He tilts my face back up, his mouth covering mine in a slow, thorough kiss that tastes like me.

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