He leans back into the couch and spreads his arms across the back, thighs falling open around me. Throat tight, body crying out for the feel of him, I climb onto his big lap, one knee at a time, bracing his thighs.
Like he can’t stand to not touch me either, his hands snap to my bare legs, fingers digging into my flesh with desperation I feel down to my bones.
“What are you doing, darlin’?” he rasps, voice rough.
I cradle his jaw, fingers weaving through his addictive, sexy-as-sin beard, and draw our mouths close, leaving only a breath between us.
“Wanting.”
And then my lips are on his
Chapter Thirty
Ride My Tongue, Darlin’
He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around my body and groaning into my mouth. “Fuck.”
Our mouths battle like a storm, messy and raw and utterlystarving.
It’s the kind of kiss that steals your breath and refuses to give it back. The kind of kiss that alters your brain chemistry.
And I know, with just one touch, I’ll never be the same after this.
His hands roam—wild and reverent—gripping my ass over the shirt, using his massive palms to direct me where he wants.
I gasp into him, fingers messily clawing at the soft fabric of his shirt, my mind spinning, heart racing. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him. Never had this insatiable, unquenchable lust, no matter how reckless and stupid I know it is.
Maybe heartbreak is waiting for me on the other side of this. Maybe I’ll wind up alone in New York, devastated and missing the glimpse of good I finally had. Maybe I’ll regret every second I spent sinking deeper and deeper into Kade Acher.
But right now, I don’t care.
Right now, all I want is to burn with him in my arms, his mouth on mine and our wild, broken souls between us.
“Need this off,” I say, yanking at his shirt desperately. “Need to feel you.”
He pulls back just enough for me to tug it up and over his head, tossing it behind me like it’s on fire.
And God, he’s even more beautiful than I remembered.
Thick chest dusted in dark curls. Carved abs. Deep grooves along his sides that beg to be licked. Bold black tattoos stretch across his right shoulder and down his arm, partially covering the raised scar that starts at his pec and slices across to his shoulder.
The tattoo is one I’ve wondered about, but never allowed myself to get close enough to really look at. But I’m looking now, and all I feel ismore.
Black and grayscale, it’s a ripped and worn American flag blended into three dog tags, and even though it’s not obviously sad—I can feel the heartache, the loss, bleeding from it like the wound it now covers.
I trail my fingers across that scar, following it with gentle reverence. Kade swallows hard, his hands finding my hips, tightening with a groan as my touch glides over his skin.
Jaw ticking, throat bobbing, his mouth opens, breath caught on a word, but I press a finger to his lips, silencing him. Eyes locked on his, I lean down and kiss the jagged tissue. He exhales roughly against my fingertip, his grip flexing around me.
So I do it again, and again.
Silently, heart hammering, world spinning, I map the pain he’s carried with my mouth—every single inch of it.
And when I reach the place where the scar vanishes into ink, I press my lips to each of the three dog tags tattooed on his skin.
One for every name. One for every soul—the last one belonging to his dad, the hardest hurt he carries.
Kade groans, low and broken.
