Page 28 of Rook
Sasha was tempted to say something cutting. I wouldn't want to be a distraction. It would stop this right in its tracks. It would serve Rook right.
She didn't say a word.
Rook's thumb traced circles on her wrist, and his eyes finally lifted to meet hers. The moment expanded, stretched, became everything. She could feel it in her bones—something cosmic, inevitable, a path laid out for them before either of them were born. His pupils dilated until the gold was nearly gone, and then he surged forward, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that demanded everything.
If Sasha had any sarcastic rejoinders, they went out the door with any other conscious thought. Rook was kissing her. She might die.
Heat bloomed low in her belly, an aching need that radiated outward until she felt it in her fingertips. His lips were firm, insistent, a brand against her own. Her nerve endings lit up like sparklers, fizzling and sparking at every point of contact. Her back arched instinctively, seeking more of him, her body knowing what it wanted even as her brain short-circuited.
Rook tasted like smoke and spice, something alien and familiar all at once. His scent wrapped around her, woodsy and male with an undertone of heat like sun-warmed stone. She breathed him in, dizzy with it, drunk on the very essence of him.
Rook groaned against her mouth as she leaned into him. The sound vibrated through her bones. Her softness met his hardness. The fit was perfect, as if she'd been crafted to nestle against his chest. His hands found her waist, spanning it easily, his fingers nearly meeting at her back. He was strong enough to break her in two, and yet his touch remained gentle, reverent, controlled.
She needed closer to him. If she didn't feel his skin against hers, she might combust. And Rook was a dragon. He knew fire.
There was a fire in her, alright.
Sasha pushed off the chair, never breaking the kiss, and straddled his thighs. The new position brought her core flush against the hard ridge in his pants, and they both groaned at the contact. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Sasha clawing at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Rook finally lost patience, grabbing the fabric and yanking it over his head in one fluid motion.
Holy hell. His chest was a masterpiece. Sculpted muscle rippled under golden skin, perfect ridges and valleys that begged to be traced with fingers, with tongue. A dusting of dark hair narrowed to a tantalizing trail that disappeared beneath his waistband. She reached out, hesitant, then laid her palm flat against his sternum. His heart thundered beneath her touch.
A sudden flash of self-consciousness hit her. She was just … her. Human. Ordinary. But the hunger in Rook's eyes burned away any doubt. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside.
Rook's groan was almost pained. "Beautiful," he breathed, the word barely audible.
His gaze was physical, a tangible caress that swept over her body and left goosebumps in its wake. No one had ever looked at her like that before, like she was precious and necessary, like he might die if he couldn't touch her. The sheer naked want in his eyes made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once, seen in a way that stripped her bare even with half her clothes still on.
Rook surged up and flipped her over and suddenly, she was lying on her back on the chilly floor.
His mouth found hers again, hungry and demanding, before trailing down her neck in a series of biting kisses that made her gasp. Each spot his lips touched burned, a sweet sting that made her arch closer. His hands claimed her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric of her bra. She whimpered, and he growled in response, the sound so inhuman it sent a shiver of excitement up her spine.
He pushed the fabric aside and lowered his head, taking one peak into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made her cry out, her hips lifting instinctively, seeking friction against him. He paid the same attention to the other breast, sucking and licking until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.
Rook pulled back a bit and grinned at her, and something in his expression shifted. The intensity was still there, but there was something else too—a playfulness, a lightness that made him suddenly seem less like an alien warrior and more like … hers. Like he belonged to her, at least for now. The realization stole her breath.
His hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down with agonizing slowness. Sasha lifted her hips, helping him strip them away, too far gone for embarrassment. She needed him with a desperation that bordered on pain, an emptiness that demanded to be filled.
The cool air of the ship kissed her newly bared skin, making her shiver—or maybe that was the weight of Rook's gaze as he drank in the sight of her in nothing but her underwear. Every inch of her felt alive, hypersensitive. The metal floor pressed cold against her back, a sharp contrast to the heat of Rook's body hovering over her. His scent surrounded her, filled her lungs with each panting breath. Her thoughts fractured, scattered, reduced to primal need—touch, take, closer, more.
Rook settled in between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider. His breath ghosted over her most sensitive spot, hot and promising through the thin fabric still covering her. Then his tongue pressed against her.
Sasha let out a loud moan, the sound bouncing off the metal walls of the ship. There was no holding back, no hiding what he did to her.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband and drew her underwear down and off, his eyes never leaving the newly revealed flesh. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue parting her folds in one long, devastating lick. Pleasure shot through her, sharp and bright, making her gasp. He hummed against her, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that made her thighs tremble.
Sasha lost herself in the feel of him, in the wet heat of his mouth working her with single-minded determination. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her, guiding him where she needed him most. Her hips lifted into each stroke of his tongue, shameless in her pursuit of pleasure. The pressure built at the base of her spine, a coiling tension that wound tighter with each pass of his talented mouth.
He didn't let up, didn't give her a moment to catch her breath. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her spread for his feast. When he closed his lips around her swollen bud and sucked, the tension snapped. She came with a cry, her body bowing off the floor, pleasure crashing through her in waves that left her gasping for air.
She must have been sex-high because Sasha could have sworn that there were little flames in Rook's eyes and smoke coming off his skin. His chin was wet with the evidence of her arousal.
Rook climbed up Sasha's body, his movements slow and predatory. He slipped a finger inside her, groaning at how wet she was, how easily she accepted him. A second finger joined the first, stretching her, preparing her for him. His thumb circled her sensitive nub, drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm and building her toward another.
"I need you," he groaned it like a prayer.
"Yes."
Slowly and with great care, Rook entered her, stretching her in the most delicious way. It was primal, it was physical, it was perfect. The slide of him inside her made them both gasp. He fit as if he'd been made for her, filling every empty space, sating a hunger she hadn't known she had.
