Home > Built (Saints of Denver #1)(28)

Built (Saints of Denver #1)(28)
Author: Jay Crownover

I grinned at her and used the edge of my thumb to breach the barrier of lace that was keeping me from the sweet swell of her breasts. Sayer was on the tall side for a woman, which was nice when we were all lined up like this, and where my fingers were trailing a dangerous and forbidden path she was all soft and pillowy. She had more than a handful hidden behind that bra that I was sure was just as fancy as the rest of her clothes even though I couldn’t see it.

“You going to tell me to stop?” My voice was rough with desire and everything else that was coiled up inside me and looking for a place to go.

She let out a shuddering breath and her hands moved from their death grip on my hair to rest lightly on my shoulders. She blinked those cerulean eyes at me and stuck her tongue out to lick at her lips again.

“Eventually, so you should probably kiss me again so I forget that this is totally inappropriate and that I need to put an end to it right now.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I placed the hand that wasn’t creeping up her full breast in the center of her back and pressed her so that she was bent into me and I had full access to not only her welcoming mouth but to the elegant curve of her neck and the delicate shell of her ear as that satiny river of blond hair fell to the side. I quit playing around and shoved her bra up and out of my way so that I could rub the now pointed and prominent peak of her nipple with the center of my palm. It made her whimper and I made sure I put my mouth over hers to eat the sound up.

She was pliable and liquid, melting into my touch and wrapping around me like she no longer had bones or any sort of structure to keep her upright. I was the only thing holding her together and straight and that made me growl in deep satisfaction. I would craft her, mold her into something that was made up of nothing more than desire, want, need, and satisfaction if she gave me the opportunity.

I shifted my hand inside of her shirt so that I could get my fingers around that nipple that was now stabbing me in the hand with impatience. I wanted it in my mouth so bad I could already taste the sweetness drifting across my tongue. I pulled back from the greedy heat and press of her mouth so I could not only see how my touch affected her but also so I could breathe and try to get some space, because as much as I wanted to, I knew there was no way I was getting my hands or my mouth under her skirt tonight. There was no denying we had a spark, some kind of tension that pulled and guided us toward one another, but Sayer wasn’t the kind of woman that would let a guy throw her on a grungy kitchen table and go to town. At least I didn’t think she was, but then her hand slipped from my shoulder and started skating down the center of my chest right toward where there was all kinds of trouble waiting for her behind my belt.

The caress of her fingers through the light cotton of my T-shirt felt better and burned hotter than I could ever remember fingers dragging across my naked skin feeling. This woman could unravel me with very little effort and that was a startling revelation considering I needed her so badly in more than one area of my life.

I brushed my fuzzy jawline across her cheek and had to smile when it made her giggle. It sounded so light and happy that I did it again just to hear her do it again. When her fingers stopped at the heavy buckle of my belt I sucked in a steadying breath and gave the nipple I was still playing with a sharp little tug before pulling my hand out of her bra and pushing back to put some space between us.

I traced the curve of her ear with the very tip of my tongue and got a full-body quake from her in response. I made a mental note to remember Sayer had a thing for ears and whispered, “I don’t know what your stopping point with all this is, but if you get my pants open I bet it’s going to go a lot farther than you anticipated. While I’m okay with that, something tells me you might not be. I want to fuck you, Sayer, but I think we can do better than a kitchen table that might not even hold us up. Not with the way I want you and all the things I want to do to you. I told you I would take you on a date; you should let me do that before you get your hands on my dick.”

She made a noise that was part squeak and part moan of distress. She lifted both her hands to the flat plane of my belly and pushed me back a little. I took a step back and she stepped around me, tugging on her bra and putting her shirt back where it rightfully belonged as she moved.

She twisted her mane of hair around her hand and shoved it behind her shoulders. Her cheeks had the smallest hint of pink on the crests and I could see the slight redness my beard had left on her neck and chin. The marks should have made me feel bad, but they didn’t. They made me want to smile and beat my chest while declaring that she was mine to whoever was around to listen. I had put my marks on her, so that made her off-limits to anyone else.

“Sorry. I lost my head a little. You do that to me.” Her voice was quiet and I could tell she was embarrassed, like admitting that she returned my heady interest was something to be ashamed of.

I sighed and reached out a hand to catch her arm as she reached for her purse. She looked up at me and my guts tightened when I saw something cloudy and unpleasant moving across the clear sky blue of her gaze. I would’ve been scrambling to reassure her if any of that cloudiness had my name written on it, but I could see whatever was working in her head was all her.

“You do that to me, too, Sayer. You know that, right? My world just got a whole lot more complicated, and you’re the only thing that makes that more manageable. I need you.”

Her nostrils flared out a little bit and she gave me a sharp nod. “You do need me . . . to do my job, and I will. I told you we would get through this, and we will. I won’t let you down.”

   
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