Page 45 of Insidious Heart
I just blink.
I don’t know what the hell that means, and not just because I’m stupid with lust and excitement. Or because his voice is orgasm-inducing all on its own.
That deep, husky rumble is sexy as fuck.
His mouth lifts into a soft smile as his hands slide back down to my cheeks, his thumbs smoothing under my eyes. “You could’ve pushed me out that window instead of letting me in. You could have done it again when I kissed you instead of responding to your questions. There are a lot of things you could have done differently since our paths crossed, Stevie, but you didn’t and that amazes me.”
The blush that creeps up my neck is fierce, but I don’t break eye contact, not even as he leans in and kisses me again. But when he pulls my lower lip between his teeth, I can’t help the way my eyes flutter closed.
“Stevie…” he sighs between kisses.
“Hmm?”
He smiles into our next one as he pulls himself completely through the window. “Stevie…” My ghost starts backing me toward my bed. “Stevie, I need to eat your pussy.”
My eyes pop open at that, my blush racing up to my cheeks and spreading out over my entire body. “Wh-what?”
“I need to eat your pussy.” He grins when the back of my knees hit the mattress, still grinning as he nips at my mouth. “I need to eat your pussy. I need to fuck your pussy. I need to feel your body alive and writhing against mine.”
“You… you… you want—”
“No, Ineedthose things. I need you naked, I need you sweaty and moaning my name. I need your cum on my tongue, on my fingers, and my cock. Ineedall of it from you, Stevie, and I want it offered up with your heart and soul because I have every intention of taking those too.”
Jesus Christ, the man can dirty talk like a champ.
“I… I don’t… I don’t know your name.”
He grins as he leans into me, forcing me to sit on the edge of the bed. Those stormy eyes find mine after they bounce around my face, his mind seemingly made up. “Victor.” He kisses me again, then backs toward the window. “Victor Crowley. Now that you know, I expect you to use it as often as possible, specifically when my face is buried between your thighs.”
I nod and swallow hard as I watch Victor slide my window shut then lock it, and keep watching as he shucks his jacket and tosses it on the chair. He comes to stand in front of me again, then lifts one hand behind his head and pulls his hoodie off, the black cotton fleece quickly joining the leather in the corner. Victor’s hand moves back into position and the second he pulls the gray t-shirt from his body, I’m struck totally stupid.
This man’s body is total perfection.
I’ll have to ask him if he played football at some point because holy shit, he absolutely could pass as a tight end. Aside from nipple rings and a dark happy trail, there is nothing but tan skin and a million lean, defined muscles on display.
I’m fucking speechless.
Which makes Victor chuckle. “I’ll take your awed silence as agreement to use my name.”
All I can do right now is nod. The other men I’ve been with were attractive, not bad looking at all, but they were not like this. They were nothing like Victor, and I was completely accurate when I thought he could be a cover model of sorts. My panties were wet before he started to undress and now that he has, they’re basically a slip and slide.
With a very satisfied grin, Victor sinks to his knees in front of me and I watch him with rapt attention. He lifts my right foot and carefully removes my purple Croc then tugs my sock off before repeating the action on my left. His hands are warm on my cold feet but they don’t stay there long because they slide up under the fabric of my scrub bottoms until Victor’s fingers are caressing my calves.
“I won’t ever take what you don’t want to give, Stevie.”
My gaze drags up his body, his fucking gorgeous body, and connects with his. “I know.”
“Do you?” he asks, his fingers moving in slow, languid circles over my skin. “Do you really believe that?”
I nod.
“Even after what you saw Friday night?”
“Especially after what I saw Friday night.”
A devious smile tugs at his lips, but I don’t miss the question—the doubt—in his eyes.
Which is understandable, but I don’t feel the need to explain myself, not yet anyway.
