Page 90 of The Unlikely Spare
When we break for air, his eyes are dazed, lips swollen.
“Is your mind wandering now?” I rasp.
His eyes flash, blue and burning. “Not right now. But I’ve heard consistency is important, so perhaps you should keep convincing me.”
I press my hips against his, letting him feel exactly what he does to me. His breath catches, pupils blown wide with desire.
“I think you are used to running rings around people with that pretty tongue of yours,” I growl, nipping at his lower lip, “but tonight, you’re going to find better uses for it.”
A shudder runs through him at my words.
I fumble with the buttons of his shirt. I need to feel him, to taste more of him.
When the fabric finally parts, revealing smooth skin over muscle, I lower my mouth to his collarbone, tasting salt and expensive cologne.
Nicholas makes a broken sound, his head falling back against the wall. His hands grip my shoulders hard enough to leave marks, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that threatens to unravel me completely.
“Bedroom,” he gasps, the word more command than suggestion.
I respond by lifting him, my hands gripping his thighs. His legs wrap around my waist, and a startled laugh escapes him as I carry him across the suite.
“Very impressive.” But the haughtiness in his tone is undermined by the way his voice breaks when I nip at his throat.
I lower him onto the bed, following him down without breaking contact. The feel of him beneath me, the heat of his chest against mine, the way his breath hitches when I move against him… It’s intoxicating.
Addictive.
I rub my groin against his, feeling the slide of our cocks together.
“Eoin,” he breathes. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me back to his mouth for another hungry kiss.
We only have one night.
I want to lose myself in him, in the taste and feel of him, in the sounds he makes when I touch him.
All the reasons this is a terrible idea fade away, drowned out by the thundering of my pulse and the desperate need to claim him completely.
Tomorrow will bring consequences. Tomorrow we’ll remember who we are. The prince and his protection officer. Separated by duty and station. Tomorrow I’ll be back to being the hired muscle, and he’ll be back to being untouchable.
But tonight, in this room, with Auckland’s lights glittering beyond the windows, we’re just Eoin and Nicholas.
Two eejits who’ve been circling each other for too long, finally giving in to what they both desperately want.
And for now, that’s enough.
Even if I’m going to hell for it, at least I’ll have good memories for the journey down.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nicholas
There’s something about the weight of Eoin on top of me that feels like gravity finally making sense.
His mouth is hot and demanding, his hands tangled in my hair, tightening just enough to send electric currents down my spine. I strain closer, desperate for more.
“God, Nicholas,” he groans against my throat. His accent is thicker than usual, each syllable of my name dragging across his tongue like he’s savoring it.
“Not quite, but I appreciate the comparison,” I say, and there’s the vibration of his laughter against my skin.
