Ripped (Miller Sisters 1)

I wondered how a man who never showed emotion could be so perceptive. So in tune with my feelings. It unsettled me. I was used to people believing in the person I presented to the world. I chose how much of myself I revealed. Discounting the day of the wedding where I’d revealed far more than I’d wanted to, I didn’t show much.

I thought about all the parts of myself I’d never shared with anyone. Thoughts that were all mine and not for sharing.

‘Tell me about the tattoo.’

‘A tattoo is just on the surface. You and I are going deeper than that.’

I swallowed. We were?

‘A tattoo isn’t who I am any more than a ripped dress is who you are.’ His mouth was closer to mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

I’d got used to thinking relationships were mostly fake and superficial, but this didn’t feel either of those things. There was nothing fake about the way his tongue traced the seam of my lips. Nothing fake about the way his hands eased my hips into his, and certainly nothing fake about the thickness of the erection I felt throbbing against me.

I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his shoulder. The tattoo shocked me because it was so unexpected. I’d always known there was so much more to him. I ran my fingers down the swell of hard muscle, feeling the leashed power under the dark ink of his tattoo. I heard the slight change in his breathing and could feel him fighting for control.

‘You hold yourself back.’ I thought about how ruthlessly he held himself in check and wondered what had made him like that. ‘Who are you really?’

‘Does it matter?’ He cupped my face in his hands and his voice had a raw edge to it that was impossibly exciting.

I remembered my resolution to have uncomplicated sex with a hot man. They didn’t come any hotter than Nico.

‘No.’ I silenced the questions in my head, telling myself they weren’t relevant to the moment. ‘I want you.’

The corner of his mouth tilted into the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. He might not smile often, but when he did he did it really well. His mouth hovered wickedly close to mine until I was afraid I might knock him over and damage him in my haste and desperation to finish what we’d started at the wedding.

And then finally, after days of my waiting and thinking of nothing else, he lowered his head and kissed me.

Chapter Seven

As I’d been thinking of nothing else for days I thought my mind had probably exaggerated his skill at kissing. It should have been a disappointment. It wasn’t. It was as good as I remembered. Better, because this time he was half-naked, too, and I finally had full access to his ripped body. His hand was hard on my back and I could feel the warmth of his palm pressing through my shirt, flattening me against him. God, he was strong. He had the body of a fighter. I knew. I’d seen plenty when I’d been to Rosie’s gym and I knew this man could have kept pace with all of them.

After the almost intolerable build-up of the past few days I was desperate, but he kept it slow, torturing both of us with pleasure.

I moaned as his mouth slid to my neck. ‘I hate to rush something so good, but I think I might need you to—’ The words died as my shirt slid to the floor. I hadn’t even felt him undo the buttons and he must have done it with one hand. I remembered what else he could do with his fingers and shivered in anticipation. He was smooth, skilled and in control whereas I just wanted to crawl all over him like a desperate puppy and lick his face. OK, not just his face. All of him.

I slid my hands down his chest (oh, my God), lingered over his hard abs and then moved to the snap of his jeans just as his hands parted my shirt.

His eyes darkened, but there was a glimmer of amusement. ‘You’re wearing a bra.’

‘Of course.’ I stared up at him, deadpan. ‘I would never be seen in public without a bra, Your Honour.’

He traced the line of fur with one finger. ‘I’m not a judge.’

‘Everyone’s a judge, especially where I’m concerned.’

‘In that case, I’m going to declare you guilty.’ His voice was husky and I found myself looking at his mouth. That wicked, sinful line of sensual torture. I didn’t care that he rarely used it to smile. I wanted him to use it for other things and I wanted him to do it right now. I was at the point of explosion.

‘If I’m guilty, then I’ll take whatever punishment I have coming, but just get on with it. I’m ready to pay the price for my sins.’

‘I like your festive bra, but it’s going to have to come off.’

I didn’t even feel his hand move but the silky bra slithered to the floor after my shirt. For the second time in a week Nico had an uninterrupted view of my bare breasts. Just for a moment I felt shy, which was ridiculous when you thought about how we’d got to this point.

Maybe it was because up until now it hadn’t mattered what he thought of me.

I was totally hopeless at this unemotional sex thing.

I tried to focus on the physical.