Page 20 of Wild Night

As much as I am lying to her about other things, tricking her, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, this is something I am telling the truth about. She will never be a clubwhore. Never.

“You’re Dakota’s sister. Unless it’s something you want, it’s not anything that will ever be offered.”

“I don’t think I would want that,” she whispers.

I hum, touching my lips to hers, but I don’t deepen the kiss, at least not yet. I’m trying my damnedest to make this less about screwing and more about building a relationship combined with sex because, believe me, there will be fucking—a lot of it.

“You better not fucking want that, princess.”

Slipping my tongue between her lips, I taste her. My tongue swirls around inside of her warmth before I break the kiss. My mouth trails down the side of her throat, my teeth scraping her soft flesh as I move down her neck and stop at the top of her breasts. Her hands fly to my biceps, and her fingers flex against my arms.

Lifting my head, I move so that I can look into her eyes. Her hands move, sliding the cut from my shoulders. I don’t let it fall to the floor, though.

Instead, once it’s off, I hang it on the hook that I know is next to the door. There is a hook beside every single door for this purpose alone. I don’t even have to look behind me. I know exactly where it is.

Once my cut is hanging, I shift both my attention and focus back to her. She is watching me, her head tipped to the side, and just when I think she’s about to ask me something, she grasps the hem of my shirt and gently peels it over my head.That,I let fall to the floor.

I don’t jump on her or pick her up and take her to the bed, no matter how badly I want to do just that. Instead, I watch her for a moment.

Content to take her in.

Slowly, tentatively, she lifts her hand and extends her index finger as she gently traces my tattoos, my nipple piercing, then my tattoos again. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I ball my fingers into fists at my sides, wanting nothing more than to touch every square inch of her.

“Looking at you like this, I would never guess you’re an attorney,” she says in a whisper.

I chuckle, releasing my fingers and relaxing them before I cup her cheek, sliding my thumb along her bottom lip as my eyes search hers. I’ve never been someone who could just sit and do nothing. I’m busy. I always have been. Never content to do nothing, I’ve been busy since the moment I could be busy.

But I could stand here for a lifetime and just look at her.

Unmoving.

Unbreathing.

CHAPTER NINE

POSEY

God.

His tattoos are sexy as shit, but as my fingers move down his chest, my breath hitches at the feel of his muscles beneath them. That part is out of this world. I didn’t think muscles like this were real. I just assumed they were photoshopped, or during those muscle competitions, it was a short-lived thing, and then they drank water or ate, and it all went away until the next time.

I’ve never been with someone like him before. He’s gorgeous, he’s dangerous—he’s wild.

“Do they all mean something?” I ask as my fingers continue to trace the black-lined tattoos.

I can’t look up at him. I’m too focused on his ink, on the way my fingers move across it. They’re not colorful pieces like I’ve seen on others. They’re black outlines, shadowed grays. They’re beautiful and full of depth.

My mouth waters to taste them—to tastehim.

“Some of them mean something. Others were drunken nights, so they mean something different. And some don’t mean shit,” he says, the last word coming out on a grunt.

My lips twitch into a smirk. “Will you tell me what they mean?” I ask. “Even the ones that don’t mean anything?”

“One day.”

And that is that.

The discussion is over, and it’s mainly over because he catches my wrist, curling his fingers around it as he holds my hand still, keeping it from touching him any longer. I ache to touch him more, to feel his warm skin.

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