Seduced by the Assassin (Forbidden Confessions 7)

I press my thighs together, but it’s useless. I want too much. It’s hard to breathe. It’s beyond difficult to think. It’s impossible to say no. “Ransom…”

“That’s not going to relieve your ache, babygirl.” He wraps his arms around me and lifts me onto the nearby island, spreading my legs and stepping between them.

“I know.” And I do. When I tried masturbating him out of my system, the need only grew.

“I can make it better. But you need to answer me before I touch you. Yes or no?”

“What about you? You’re injured and—”

“These scratches?” He thumbs at the bandage on his neck and lifts his arm to stare at the wound I patched up there. “It’s going to take a lot more than these to keep me from you.”

“Does this mean anything besides sex?”

He frowns. “You think I just want to fuck you?”

Even when he says the words, I get hot, but I have to focus. This is my future. “Don’t you?”

“That’s not all I want from you, Havana. I want your heart. I want you to want mine, too. I want us to make a future. The sex will simply be the icing on the cake.”

All the things I crave—that I’ve fantasized about—with him. “Yes.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little blue velvet box. He sets it on the island beside me. “Happy birthday, babygirl.”

He got me a present!

When I reach for it gleefully, Ransom grabs my wrist. “Not yet. First, take off your clothes.”

I freeze. Did I hear that right?

“Here?” In the kitchen? Under the bright, bright lights?

He raises a dark brow at me.

That’s a yes. “Before I open my present?”

Ransom nods, his thumb caressing my lower lip slowly, repeatedly, until it’s sensitive. Until I’m aching. “Besides me, I want this to be the only thing against your skin tonight.”

Okay, that’s hot. And I’d like that, too. Almost as if he’s marking me even before he takes me.

As I ease off the counter, I brush against his body. Every nerve ending rattles and vibrates like I’m hooked up to a power grid. The contact jolts me again when Ransom steps closer, crowding me against the island.

I’m tangled in his dark stare as I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks. Then I lick my lips and reach for the hem of Ethan’s T-shirt.

Once you do this, there’s no going back…

But I don’t hesitate, just pull the cotton over my head and toss it onto the island, my stare glued to Ransom’s.

His gaze falls to my lacy cups playing peekaboo with my nipples. His eyes go from a warm, dark chocolate to black with desire. It sends my pulse thudding and my need climbing.

“I knew you’d be beautiful…” He runs a finger along the scalloped edge across the swell of my breast, then dips the digit inside, gliding back and forth over the engorged tip. “But damn…”

They pucker up even more. I feel his touch all the way to my pussy, which tightens and dampens every time he teases the stiff peak. I close my eyes. Let out a breath. My head lolls back.

He hovers above me, his hot breath cascading down my neck. I shudder. He’s barely touched me, and I’m burning up.

“Ransom…”

“Keep going. Don’t make us wait anymore.”

“Why aren’t you kissing me?”

“If I do, we won’t make it to the bedroom. And I want you flat on your back, where I can look at every part of you, lick it, taste it, bite it. Own it. I plan to pin you down, penetrate you, and fuck you mercilessly until you can’t think of anything but me.”

When he puts it like that, I’m motivated to hurry. “I already can’t. It’s been two months since you kissed me, but I still want you so bad.”

“Babygirl, I never stopped.”

Oh, god.

I reach for the button of my jeans and flick it open. His stare dips to watch. The hiss of my zipper lowering is a tease in the quiet room, broken only by my audible breaths.

“Are you having me undress myself for the same reason?”

“No. It helps, but I want you to strip yourself bare for me, under these lights, so I can be sure you mean that yes your mouth and eyes are saying. If you can do that before I’ve really touched you, then I’ll know. And I’ll believe there’s a chance you can handle all the filthy things I’m dying to do to you.”

My womb clenches. It’s as if he knows exactly what to say to make me slick and desperate. I haven’t even dropped my pants, and I already feel how wet I am. My cotton panties try to soak up the moisture I’m spilling, but the effort is in vain. They’re already saturated, and I’m only getting wetter.