"Oh."

I glance over to find her frowning, a little wrinkle between her brows. "You like ink, angel?"

"I don't know." She glances up at me from beneath her lashes, seemingly perplexed. "I never thought about it before…"

Before what? I want to ask, but the way she blushes and glances away from me silences the question. The answer is written all over her face. She never thought about it before me.

Fuck. Why does that make me feel like a rockstar?

"What are yours about?" she asks a second later, craning her head back to look at me. "They seem…personal."

"Most ink is personal."

"Oh." She thinks that over for a minute and then smiles. "I guess that makes sense because it's permanent. I wouldn't want to live my whole life with something I didn't love tattooed on me."

My brows pull together. "You thinking about getting ink, Kennedy?"

She shrugs, which makes me scowl. If anyone even fucking thinks about inking her, I'll shove my boot so far up their asses it tickles their tonsils. No one is touching this angel but me. If she wants ink, it'll be my art adorning her body. I already have a few ideas.

"I'll take you to my shop tomorrow," I mutter, sketching out a few of those ideas in my mind. Nothing loud or ostentatious. That's not Kennedy. Understated and elegant is more her speed. "Show you what it's like."

"You work at a tattoo shop?"

"Mmhmm. Crimson Ink. I own the place."

"Oh, wow. I've heard about your shop before. You'd really take me to see it?" Her big green eyes work like a wrecking ball on my insides. Jesus, she's so excited, like I just offered to fight a dragon for her. The awe in her voice makes me want to back her up against the wall and kiss the sweet right out of her.

"Yeah," I grunt, releasing her to tug at my bowtie like that's going to make me any less likely to defile her in the middle of a church. Spoiler alert: it's not. Jesus and all his saints could be peeking through the windows and I'd still want to sit her little ass on top of the piano at the front of the room and have my way with her.

"That's really sweet, Asher," she says, smiling so wide her little dimples pop out as she ducks through the door I point her toward. "But you don't have to do that. I'm sure you have more important things to do. Besides, I won't be here tomorrow. I live in Nashville."

"So do I."

"Oh."

She stops in the middle of the narrow closet connecting the music room to the classroom nearest the kitchen. Props and musical instruments pack the small space, leaving us little room to maneuver. We're so close, I can smell her shampoo. It's fruity, like peaches. I can also feel the way she trembles when she realizes how close I'm crowding her.

"Do you really hate my dress?" she whispers.

"Yes."

I grab her arm when she turns toward the door as if she's going to storm off. Somehow, her feet tangle and she crashes into my chest. I take advantage of the situation like the asshole I am and back her up against the wall, caging her in between my body and the shelf behind her.

"I fucking hate that every man in attendance is going to see any part of you," I growl against her ear. "They'll be thinking what I've been thinking since I saw you."

"W-what have you been thinking about?"

"How sweet you'll sound when you're coming all over me, and how tight you're going to be when I'm inside you," I say, hoping like hell she doesn't slap me for it. "Knowing anyone else is having the same thoughts about you is going to drive me insane."

"Asher," she gasps, but I don't think she's offended or pissed off.

"I'm jealous as hell it's not me wrapped around your sweet little body instead of that dress, Kennedy." I nip her ear because I can't help it, because I want her to know how crazy she's making me.

Women don't do this to me. They don't send possessiveness roiling through me like thick black clouds of aggression. They don't tie me up in knots, looking for ways to please them. They don't consume every waking thought and haunt every dream. But this one…Jesus, this one. I can't shake her. Can't stop thinking about her. Whatever she's doing to me, I don't want her to stop.

"Asher," she says again, her voice shaking. She's not afraid though. She's so turned on her entire body shakes like her smoky voice. "Y-you can't talk to me like that."

"You love it, Kennedy."

"That's why you can't do it!" she cries in the sweetest voice.

"Ah, baby," I chuckle, the sound gritty and rough. I nip the shell of her ear and then run my tongue around it, making her moan my name and cling onto my jacket. "I'm going to say and do a helluva lot worse when you're riding me later. I'm rough and rude and dirty as hell. I don't deserve to kiss your adorable little feet and we both know it, but you're going to be mine, angel baby. Might as well get used to it now."

I don't know what I expect her to say and I damn sure know I shouldn't be talking to her this way—especially not in a church, for Christ's sake. She deserves romance and wooing and all that shit women love that I've never even thought about before now. But I can't seem to stop myself any more than she seems able to stop herself from wrapping her hand in my jacket and yanking my mouth down to hers.

The way she takes what she wants has my dick leaking in my pants. She isn't an innocent little angel when she's turned on. She's a Siren, demanding what she wants from me. I give it to her, licking inside her mouth to taste her. As soon as I do, I groan, sinking my hands into her hips. Her mouth is so fucking sweet, like cherries.

It's obvious that she's never kissed anyone before, but that's fine with me. I don't want to think about anyone else touching her or kissing her. Matter of fact, I don't want to think about anyone else anywhere near her. Because this tiny little slice of heaven on earth is just for me. I'll teach her what she needs to know.

I kiss her hard and deep, lost in the way she whines in the back of her throat and mimics my movements. Her tongue dances across mine, teasing my tongue ring, and then her teeth sink into my bottom lip. The sting goes straight to my cock.

She whimpers when I yank her up against me, crushing her breasts to my chest. My erection nestles against her stomach, which has her tipping her head back to moan. I take advantage of the moment and track kisses down her throat and onto the swells of her breasts. Her peaches scent is even stronger here, clouding my mind with base lust.

I pinch her nipple through her dress, pulling another cry from her lips. Her entire body reacts, her back arching and her hips grinding into mine. The sound of my name leaving her lips in that tone is easily going to become my favorite sound. It's obscene how effortlessly sexy she is.

"Fucking hell," I growl, pulling away when voices slip beneath the crack of the door.

Tags: Nichole Rose Claimed Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net