Page 85 of Sin of Love
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When she rolls her eyes,lips dancing with the urge to laugh, I see the future.
Really. I see it, clear as day. We’re laughing a lot. When we’re not laughing, we’re arguing about stupid shit, or making love, or simply being together because we can and there’s nowhere else we want to be.
Laughing.
I see us laughing.
“I thought I told you to get naked?”
Even with radiators and fireplaces, I have a lot of clothes on because it’s freaking winter in Finland. Somehow I manage not to completely humiliate myself as I peel off layer after layer until I’m buck naked. I quell the instinct to cover my dick, which has been hard since the first second of our kiss. There’s nothing shameful about my desire for her, and I want her to know it.
Deirdre’s cheeks are a delicious apple red, her eyes flickering down repeatedly. She clears her throat. “Sit.”
I obey, and in the next minutes enjoy the most unintentionally erotic striptease in history. Deirdre takes off her clothes with careful, precise movements, and every inch of her revealed makes my balls tighter. When she gets to her bra, I have to look away before I really do embarrass myself. All over the sheets.
“It’s hard to look at, I know. We can turn the lights lower if you want.”
My heart drops to my gut and my eyes snap back to her. “What? No. No. Deirdre, you’re perfect. Too beautiful. I was getting too excited.”
Her brows lift and her gaze flickers down. “Ohh.”
“Yes, ohhh.”
I look pointedly at her body, naked but for white cotton underwear and a simple, matching bra. Of course, I see her scars, both those old and faded and the newer additions. They’re a map of resilience on her skin. She’s a fucking warrior.
When I’m done feasting on the shadow of dark curls beneath her underwear, I look up. Her chest undulates, but she’s not hyperventilating with panic—she’s panting with lust. Dilated pupils, hard nipples, thighs flexing as she squeezes them together.
Perfection.
“I’m not afraid of your dark, mon bijou. And I never will be.”
The bra and underwear drop, and she comes for me like a goddess bent on dominion. I’m pushed roughly onto my back. My arms are guided over my head, hands pressed together and down with the nonverbal demand to not move. Barring an earthquake or house fire, I won’t move one fucking centimeter.
My breath stills with anticipation as she hovers over me, knees planted to either side of my hips and her palms bracketing my chest. Her beautiful breasts are too far from my mouth, rosy nipples grazing my chest. My dick twitches, reaching for her.
A smile plays on her lips.
I tell her sincerely, “I will absolutely beg if you need me to.”
The smile widens. “That won’t be necessary.”
She dips down. I have a second to process her body flush against mine before she licks a line up my throat, over my jaw, and to my mouth. I open, trying to catch her taste, but she lifts up and out of reach.
This fucking woman.
“Deirdre,” I gasp. “Can I touch you?”
Blue-fog eyes find mine, and all I see in them is mischief. No past, no shadows, no fear. She’s so damn beautiful, I’m convinced any second I’m going to either weep or come all over my own leg. Possibly both.
“Let me think…” She draws out the pause to an agonizing length. “No.”
With a half laugh, half groan, I relax and close my eyes, surrendering to whatever fate she decrees. I’m rewarded a moment later when silky, wet heat teases my tip. My eyes snap open just in time to watch her carefully lower herself onto me.
Lower lip in her teeth.
Frown on her face.
