Page 16 of The Contractor's Rose
It started slow—his lips soft but firm, coaxing me to open for him. I did, eagerly.
And then our tongues touched—and something inside me snapped.
He growled low in his throat, primal and deep, and suddenly I wasn’t being kissed anymore. I was beingclaimed.
There was no other word for it.
Heownedmy mouth, kissing me with the kind of hunger that made me feel dizzy, electric. Like I’d been waiting my whole life for this one perfect kind of destruction.
His hand slid from my knee up to my side, spanning wide across my ribs, thumb grazing just beneath the soft underside of my breast. I gasped into him—and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him. Like it fed him.
His other hand was still in my hair, fingers tugging gently, guiding me, angling me. It was all control—his.And I wanted it. Icravedit.
He was everywhere.
In my mouth.
On my skin.
Inside my head.
And I never wanted him to stop.
NINE
GAVIN
Jesus.Fuck.
What the hell was I doing?
I pulled back just enough to look at her, to try and catch my breath—though that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Her eyes were wide, locked on mine like I’d hung the damn moon and lassoed the stars just for her.
Christ.
Her cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted, her chest rising and falling in quick shallow breaths beneath that thin sundress. That goddamn sundress. No bra—fuck,I remembered that. As if I could forget. My eyes lowered, taking in the soft peaks of her nipples pressed against the fabric, teasing, taunting, and doing dangerous things to what little restraint I had left.
Her thighs were still tucked up beside me on the bench seat, bare skin brushing the denim of my jeans.
Temptation in the flesh.
And I was a goddamn sinner.
My thumb was still resting just beneath her breast, thesoft curve of it pressing against my palm like an invitation. Every inch of her was a test I was actively failing—body and soul.
Get it together, Gavin.
She was almost half my age. My best friend’s daughter. A girl I’d known since she was fifteen—skinny limbs and even bigger doe eyes—curled up behind the counter at her grandmother’s bookstore, devouring romance novels like they were the air she breathed.
But now?
Now she was twenty-seven.
A woman.
Afucking woman.And one who had just kissed me back like I was the only man left in the goddamn world. Who’d looked at me with trust in her voice and fire in her blood and said she’d never wanted anyone like this.
And I knew she meant it.
