Page 41 of Forbidden
He’s quoting Twain? If he likes to read, then it’s my turn to think he’s perfect! He tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back so I’m looking in his eyes.
“Stay away from me. Then you won’t be tempted.”
“‘I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist’. I believe that’s Mae West.”
My breath catches and I search my brain for an appropriate comeback.
“‘We gain the strength…of the temptation…we resist’, Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
I can hardly get my words out because I can barely breathe. This can’t be a normal reaction, can it? I’ve never been like this with anyone else. What is it about him?
He smiles, leaning closer. My breasts are now crushed against his chest, and for the life of me, I can’t calm my breathing.
“‘Yield to temptation, it may not pass your way again’, Robert A. Heinlein.”
I moan as his lips graze my cheek. A prayer. That’s what I need.
“‘Lord, deliver me from wanting to be delivered into temptation’, Khaya Dlanga.”
I gasp as he grabs my hips and lifts me onto the pool table. He steps forward, wedging himself between my legs and sliding an arm around my waist. His free hand returns to my hair, and he pulls me forward.
“Oscar Wilde…‘the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it and your soul grows sick with longing…’”
His voice gets lower with each word and his lips get closer to mine with each breath. I can’t move. My mind and body are being seduced.
“‘…for the things it has forbidden itself, with desire for what monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful’.”
I can’t take it anymore. I close the small gap between our lips and press them together. His arm tightens around my waist and he pulls me even closer. I wrap my legs around his hips and his hardness crashes into me. My hands find their way into his hair, roaming his scalp as he devours my lips. His kisses are like wildfire – hot and uncontrollable. When his tongue touches mine, my entire body trembles. I moan, sucking on his bottom lip, and grinding against him. God, I love the way he feels.
He grabs my hips and then we’re moving. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care. A door slams shut, then there’s something soft beneath me. A bed. Fuck. All of a sudden, it’s like I’m possessed. I writhe beneath him, moaning and whimpering. I can’t get enough of him. I yank at the hem of his shirt and pull it up. He breaks away just long enough to remove it and toss it over his shoulder. He removes the gun from his waist and tries to place it on the nightstand, but I grab his shoulders and drag him back to me, causing it to clatter to the floor.
“Raven.”
Holy shit, my name sounds amazing coming from him. He moans as he kisses my neck. His tongue swirls, and my muscles clench. God, I want him to touch me there. He starts to suck on my neck and my eyes roll back in my head. For just a second, a clear thought enters my mind.
“No marks.”
He moves down and latches on to my stomach, pulling at my skin and sinking his teeth in. My stomach muscles lock up.
“Gage!”
“That’s it. Say my name, Raven.”
He comes back to my lips and I roll over, putting him beneath me. I sit up and just take him in. He’s breathing just as heavily as I am, and his pupils are dilated. The color of his eyes is even more intense. The pendant of his necklace – a flattened, brass base of a shotgun shell – lies on his chest, with the inscription “12 Gage”.
I study the tattoos covering his chest and arms. On his left arm, the reaper makes another appearance, the handle of his scythe extending all the way down to his wrist. On either side of the blade are the words, “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword”. On his right arm, there’s a twelve gauge, eight-seventy pump-action shotgun, with a bullet coming out of the barrel. The name of his club sits proudly on his sternum in a semi-circle from one shoulder to the next, the logo on his left pectoral. On his sides, there are two Glocks that look like they’re tucked into his waist. “Death before disloyalty” is in bold letters on his stomach between the guns. Among the tats, I also notice a few scars, some of which look like gunshot wounds. With his protruding pecs, flat stomach, and strong arms, he’s one smoking-hot, hunk of a man. A real thirst trap.
I lean forward and kiss his neck, working my way back to his lips. As I’m treated to another of his delicious kisses, he slips his fingers beneath my top. I’m startled by a vibration on my thigh and I pull back. He looks up at me, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head.
“Fuck!” He rolls from under me and jumps off the bed. “The fuck am I doing?”
He removes two phones from his pocket, tosses one on the bed, and answers the other. His back is to me and I see it’s free of tattoos. I was expecting to see more. He hangs up and turns to me, and I get ready for round two. Instead, he picks up his shirt and sighs.
“I better take you home.”
CHAPTER 9
***Gage***
