Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2) - Page 66
“So Marlene is not your girlfriend?”
“No.”
The word is sharp and clear; it rings in the silence. I study him. His dark eyes are on my face, and I see no lie in them.
“She sent you a naked picture of her.”
“She’s crazy.”
He always had that effect on the female population. “But do you have a girlfriend somewhere waiting for you?”
“No. I swear to you, I don’t.”
Relief washes through me. “Good.”
“Good? I like that.” A corner of his mouth tips up in a half-smile, and my throat goes dry.
“Enough talking.” I poke him in the chest and enter mission mode again. “T-shirt off.”
“Can’t wait to get me naked?”
I snort. “Off. Now.”
He grabs the neckline and drags it off without another word.
Now the room feels unbearably hot, and I resist an urge to fan myself as those lickable abs and that ink-covered chest come into view, inch by torturous inch. His taut flesh glimmers wet in the yellow light of the bulb hanging overhead, and when he bunches up his shirt and looks at me, his eyes look black like the night.
“What now?” he whispers and reaches down to adjust his drawstring pants, drawing my eyes to the growing bulge in the front.
This is a bad idea. I’m still mad at him. I only came by to make sure he’s okay, not for sex.
But my body disagrees with me and is very interested in the way a thin dark treasure trail dips under his gray pants, how those divots at his hips look so damn sexy, how his six pack stands out in full definition.
I’m a girl, and he’s a damn hot boy. There’s not getting over that, I guess.
“Tyler, I...” My voice is thick. “I wanted...”
“What did you want?” He takes a step closer, and I take a step back, until my back is pressed against the closed window. “You asked me what I came back for, but what about you? What do you want from me?”
This time when he molds his muscled frame to my curves, there’s no mistaking how excited he is. His cock is thick and long pressed against my belly. He dips his head and runs his mouth over my cheek, and I can’t remember his question.
Helplessly, I tilt my head to the side, giving him access, and he dives in for the kill, sucking on my neck. I swear I feel teeth. I squirm and whine as pain mingles with burning pleasure, and I’m dimly aware I’m going to have a hell of a hickey there tomorrow.
“Wait...” I try to force my brain to function. “You just had an attack. You should rest, I don’t think—”
“Distract me,” he mutters and unzips my jacket. “Make me forget. I want to forget.”
How can I say no to that?
When he pushes my jacket off my shoulders, I wiggle out of it without a second thought. His hands slip under my long sweater, pushing it up.
I grab the hem and draw it over my head, remaining in my black pants and red bra. My breath catches when his hot gaze glides down and lingers. His hands follow the same path from my neck to my breasts, covering them and making me moan with need.
Then he reaches behind my back, expertly finds the clasp and unhooks it. In one swift motion, he pulls my bra off, freeing my breasts.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His mouth moves lower, finding the aching tips of my breasts one by one and circling them, suckling on them, driving
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