Page 258 of The Night Shift
I cup her face again, my thumb stroking her cheek. “Right as always, Dr. Moore.”
Because how could I not be? I’m choked with devotion for her. Three years ago, I laid eyes on Holly Moore for the first time ever, and in return she rewrote the structure of my entire fucking DNA.
I kiss her again. Softer. Reverent like her lips are a place of worship. “I am utterly and irrevocably obsessed with you. And I’m never ever letting you go.”
One year later
11 p.m.
Not Theo’s car
“Oh, god — fuck. Yes, right there!” A strangled moan catches in my throat. I roll my hips against him, hard and fast, chasing that unbearable pleasure curling in my spine.
The windows are fogged up. My thighs are shaking. And Theo is underneath me, groaning as I go on riding him in the front seat of this car.
“You’re going to kill me, darling,” he grits out, his firm hands bruising my hips as he thrusts up into me. “I’m going to die in this cheap rental car and it’s going to be your fault.”
Rental, yes. Cheap, no. I borrowed it from a friend for a “special” purpose. I never thought I’d make another friend after what had happened with Cami, but I guess some people have a way of surprising me.
Theo’s head slams back against the driver’s seat, jaw clenched, eyes rolling. His grip on my waist tightens. “Fuck, Hollister, you’re so goddamn tight.”
“Maybe if you’d shut up and stop calling me Hollister, I’d let you come.”
He makes some kind of a desperate growling sound and bucks harder beneath me, the gear shift rattling violently under my thigh. “You really think you’re in charge right now?”
I roll my hips again, deliberately slow, squeezing around him until his hands twitch. “IknowI am.”
“Jesus fuck —” He breaks off, voice strangled. “You’re such a goddamn brat.”
“And you love it,” I whisper, licking the sweat off his neck, biting just hard enough to make him hiss. “Say it.”
His ocean eyes snap to mine. “I loveyou. There’s a difference.” He puts his forehead to mine, his whisper thick and heavy, spinning like a cyclone inside me. “And I’d let you ruin me every day for the rest of my life, if it meant I get to watch you ride me wearing these thigh-high boots over and over again.”
My chest caves and heat swirls in my belly, making my clit throb and my body crave him so badly, I could make him bleed.
Just a little.
My hands slide down his bare chest. His shirt is hanging open, loose and useless. The thin black lines of the tattoos still weave over the old scars I gave him, sacred and permanent. I rake my nails down his stomach. Hard.
He moans.
Thin red trails bloom down his abs, the skin parting for me like it remembers who it belongs to.
“Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my fingertip through one of the crimson beads. I lift it to my mouth and suck it clean. “You used to be intimidating.”
His pupils dilate like that of a wild cat. He thrusts up so hard my breath catches. His hand comes up and grabs the back of my neck, dragging me down for a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue, like he needs me more than air.
“Let go for me, baby,” he whispers, mouth hot against mine. “Be good and come on my cock like the perfect little slut you are.”
The leather squeaks beneath us. The gear stick is really digging into my thigh now. The windshield’s completely steamed over. The car is moving and anyone could see, and I don’t fucking care who sees. I don’t care about anything except the way he’s looking at me like I’m the last thing he’ll ever see, and he’s already made peace with it.
His cock slams into me even harder, brutal and relentless. My tits bounce with every grind of his hips, and I roll my own hips down harder, trying to meet his movements. He hits a perfect spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I pull him closer. I want all of him. His mouth. His hands. The filthy promises he keeps whispering against my ear.
“Mine,” he growls, one hand digging into the swell of my ass, the other clamping tightly over my mouth when I cry out. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”
I nod, whimpering.
