Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2) - Page 108

He ran the tip of his index finger lightly over one pale pink nipple and then the other. She made a little sound, a soft hum of desire, that sent a quick flash of heat straight to his dick.

“Chayton. I can’t think when you—when you—”

He dipped his head, licked the pearled nipples.

She gasped and made another of those sweet sounds.

“Chay. If you do that…”

He looked up. Her eyes were wide and luminous. Her cheeks were pink. Her lips were parted.

And he—dammit, despite their conversation, he was swelling inside his jeans.

“I have to know about the people you deal with,” he said, still calmly, still evenly, though he could feel his heart starting to race. “I can’t protect you unless I know who they are and what they’re like.”

“But it is my duty to protect them, Chayton. Surely you are a man who understands duty…”

He framed her face in his hands.

“What I understand,” he said, his voice gone rough and hot, “is that if I’m not inside you soon I’m going to go crazy.”

She smiled.

It was a smile that spoke of everything he had ever dreamed, everything he had ever wanted.

“Good,” she whispered.

Chay brushed his mouth over hers. “Good that I’m going to go crazy?”

Her hands danced up his chest. Except for the jeans, he was naked and she loved the feel of his muscled body, his warm skin.

“Good that you need to be inside me,” she said. “Because I’m going to die unless you—”

He pulled down the duvet.

She sank back against the pillows.

His hand moved down her body. Over her belly.

To her thighs.

“Open for me,” he said gruffly.

Her legs parted. He grasped them and pulled them wider.

Then he stroked his fingers over her.

Ah, Jesus. She was wet. Soaked. She was ready for him. So ready, but he wanted her desperate. Pleading. He wanted her world narrowed down to this bed, to this moment, to him.

“Bianca,” he said, and he ran his thumb over her clitoris.

She cried out.

“Look at me, Bianca.”

She brought her gaze to his face. The hard, beautiful bones. The eyes as dark as emerald fire. The strong, straight nose with the little bump in it. The sculpted mouth.

“Tell me,” he said.

Tags: Sandra Marton Special Tactical Units Division Romance
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