The Heart of Devin MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 3)

“All right.”

“That you’ll say stop if you mean stop, if I do something you don’t like.”

“You won’t.”

His lips cruised around to her ear and made something quake inside her. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He took her hand and led her through the door into the small room he used at night. It was dark. It held little more than a narrow bed, a rickety table, an ashtray he rarely used anymore.

“It shouldn’t be here. I should take you somewhere.”

“No.” If it wasn’t now, she’d lose her nerve. What difference did atmosphere make, when it was dark and her eyes were closed? “This is fine.”

“We’ll make it better than fine.”

He lit one of the station’s emergency candles, so at least there was soft light. She couldn’t know how arousing she was, standing there, tidy and terrified, prepared to give herself. To sacrifice herself, he thought grimly.

He would show her different.

“I love you, Cassie.” It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe him. She would. He kissed her again, slowly, deeply, patiently, putting his heart into it.

And moment after moment there was nothing but the kiss, the taste of it, the meeting of lips, the way she softened against him.

“Hold me,” he murmured.

Obedient, wanting to please, she wrapped her arms around him. There was a little shock when she felt how hard he was, how strong. How odd it was to hold him tight against her. While his mouth moved over hers, she stroked her hands over his back.

“I want to see you.” He continued to rub his lips over her throat, even as her hands tensed on his back. He didn’t mind her bei

ng shy. He found it endearing. “You have such a lovely face.” His eyes stayed on it as he slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. “Eyes like fog, and that sexy mouth.”

She blinked, thrown off enough to make no protest when he parted her blouse. No one had ever called her sexy. Then his gaze shifted downward, and the sound that rumbled in his throat had something curling hard in her stomach.

He was cupping her breasts in his hands, holding them as if they were delicate glass that could be shattered by a careless touch.

“Lovely.”

“I’m small.”

“Perfect.” He lifted his gaze to hers again. “Just perfect.” He watched her lashes flutter when he circled her breasts, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. And his blood heated when they stiffened, when she shuddered, when her eyes opened again in surprise and went dark.

What was he doing? Why wasn’t he squeezing or pulling? She felt her head spin before it fell back. Heard, with a kind of dull shock, her own moan.

“Do you have to close your eyes?” he asked her. It wasn’t so difficult to keep his hands easy, after all, not on skin that was soft as silk. “I like to watch them go cloudy when I touch you. I love to touch you, Cassie.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You’re breathing. I can feel your heart.” He lowered his lips to her shoulder before straightening to pull off his shirt. “Feel mine.”

My oh my, Cassie thought. He looked like something in one of those glossy magazines. All muscles and firm smooth skin. With only the slightest of hesitations, she laid a hand on his chest, and smiled. “It’s pounding. Are you ready?”

“Oh, Cassie.” Biting back a groan, he drew her into his arms, cradled her there, savored the feel of her flesh pressed against his. “I haven’t even started.”

Because she thought he meant something entirely different, her brows drew together and she swallowed her distaste and reached courageously for his crotch.

With a ripe oath, he jerked back, stuttering, as she covered herself and gaped.